If You Call
by Trickster-jz
Summary: Sequel to "Fast as I Can." Six months after their argument, Zekk and Jaina run into each other again—this time, in the middle of one of her risky missions, and with history to further complicate the matter. AU, JainaxZekk.
1. Chapter 1

**If You Call  
by Trickster-jz**

**Disclaimer**: Alas, barring plot and the odd OC, I own none of the established characters, star systems, concepts, or…really much at all. I'm not making any money off of this.

**Summary**: Sequel to _Fast as I Can_. Six months after their argument, Zekk and Jaina run into each other again—in the middle of one of her risky missions, this time, and with history to further complicate the matter. _And if you call, I will answer / And if you fall, I'll pick you up / And if you court this disaster, I'll point you home_.

**Author's Note**: Title and summary lyrics are from "Call and Answer" by Barenaked Ladies. I'm not entirely happy with all of this, but I've been hammering this out for several weeks now, and…I don't really expect it to get much better, so here it is :p

_**x-x-x**_

Zekk knew that Jaina visited Peckhum; the old spacer never hid that information—in fact, Peckhum made a point of sharing it. Zekk usually cut Peckhum off before he had even started in on it. Zekk could be relatively certain that Jaina was not engaged; but the image of her temper was much more clear.

In six months, they hadn't spoken a word. Zekk's new job co-piloting the _Grey Hawk_ consumed his time, even when they returned to Coruscant. He had never worked as hard in his life, let alone enjoyed his stable employment. He had thrown himself into learning everything he could about ship engines and piloting. Raven Lee and her crew seemed amused by his fervour but were generally helpful, so long as he kept his eyes off the secret compartments. They had been together too long to trust an outsider. Zekk thought he was winning them over, though; the captain liked him, at least.

If he missed more than just Peckhum when he was flying through the Outer Rim, Zekk worked harder to stop dwelling on it. The Outer Rim tabloids and news had other targets than the daughter of New Republic heroes, and only Mique was bent enough to share copies of the Coruscant ones. Zekk was doing very well forgetting about his friend, he thought, right up until Jaina made things difficult again.

_**x-x-x**_

Tattooine was always a trouble spot, and not just because his fellow crewmembers had gotten on the wrong side of the Hutts. Scooti, their overly young mechanic, invariably found the worst bar in Mos Eisley—not to mention any other city they docked in—and the stupidest or meanest men to fight over her. With the captain and her first mate always taking care of business on the planet, Zekk's duties usually expanded to keeping an eye on the unwitting trouble magnet. With any luck, he managed to keep Scooti out of jail, though rarely off the bar's banned list.

"Well, I'm off," she told the crew as soon as they had landed. She knew enough, at least, to give warning now. "There's this cantina I heard tell of, the Dustbowl, and—"

"Why don't I come along, then," Zekk interrupted. The places she had _heard tell of_ were always the worst.

Hrul, the _Hawk_'s enormous first mate, growled something—either a warning or a threat. Zekk might not know Hrul's species, but Hrul's Scooti-sized soft spot hadn't gone unnoticed since his first week on the _Hawk_.

"We'll even try to keep you out of jail this time," Zekk added, rolling his eyes.

"I just want a drink," Scooti protested.

"And I am completely okay with that plan," Zekk agreed. "But I'm bringing my blaster anyway."

_**x-x-x**_

Despite Zekk's best intentions, Scooti soon darted out of his immediate line of visiond, and he only caught glimpses of her through the night when she returned to the bar for drinks. There was a particularly dense mass in the crowded bar, off in the shadows, and that would be his first target if things went sour. Until then, Zekk found himself a drink and a table on the catwalk.

He had a reasonable view of the cantina, but the table's location held him slightly apart from the mass of beings. Growing up a Coruscanti orphan had given him a sense of when—and around whom—he should stay off the radar, and this place gave off unmistakable warnings. Thankful for the wall at his back, and the not-very-well-hidden exit nearby, Zekk's senses were overattentive; he kept his right hand near his blaster holster.

Zekk glanced to where he had last seen Scooti, and on his way back spotted her gleefully trying to drink a Wookiee under the table. Although satisfied that she had not yet started a fight, Zekk still could not escape the feeling that he had missed something important. A mental run-through assured him that his blaster's energy cell was charged; Scooti had never been to this cantina, let alone been banned from it; and although Raven's customers this time were a sketchy lot, she had worked for them dozens of times before.

Increasingly unsettled by what he could not pinpoint, Zekk studied his surroundings more closely. The Dustbowl was in one of the most dangerous parts of Mos Eisley, and the smallest indiscretion could soon change a being's life for the worse. The usual assortment of smugglers and dealers and bounty hunters filled the space; the regulars guarded their nooks as carefully as they did their drinks; the staff dodged customers and featured dancers alike. There were the dancers themselves, of course, but—

Zekk nearly spat his drink as his eyes connected with a very familiar, extremely unlikely pair. Jaina swept her gaze right past him, but he knew she had seen him, even while all but wrapped around a particularly dangerous man. Scarred and tattooed enough to hide his species, Zekk recognized a gang leader, or high-end mob cleaner, when he saw one.

Zekk's legs straightened underneath him, bringing him to a stand before he thought of it. He averted his stare as quickly as he could, and took his drink to the railing. He slouched over the edge, and did his best to look bored.

Jaina didn't look at him again, even though he kept her firmly in the corner of his vision. She was very much not the Jaina he knew—even a good twenty feet away, he could see the red paints and gold glitter covering what skin was not shielded by her tiny black dress. She had draped herself across the man's lap without a hint of her pragmatic nature. It was far worse than his glimpse of her in _Revashed_, almost a year previously.

The hand on Zekk's shoulder took him off guard. His hand went immediately to his holster, only to have his wrist half-crushed by calluses. "Jaina really wouldn't be happy," murmured a slightly familiar voice. "I'd have to hurt you, and she's been waiting to do that herself."

Zekk's jaw clenched, his suspicions confirmed even before he turned to see Kyp Durron. The smirking Jedi hadn't become less dangerous, even wearing black eyeliner; he balanced it with an assassin's black get-up. Zekk jerked his arm free. "What is she _doing_?"

Kyp spared Jaina a look. "You need to get out of here, now. This isn't the time for street cockiness."

Zekk snorted his disgust. "Think again. What's going on?"

Kyp wasn't listening, and all but hauled Zekk towards the stairs. "You've been avoiding Jaina for the past six months—why don't you keep it up for another day?"

With some difficulty, Zekk managed to throw Kyp off. "I'll look after myself. Is she going to be okay?"

Kyp gave him a black glare. "I warned you, didn't I? It's on your own head—but I wouldn't wish this place even on you. So get that girl of yours, and get out of here before things turn nasty." He paused, his expression no more forgiving. "Jaina can't be distracted right now; we've worked too hard."

Zekk did not want to go anywhere. He wanted to stay and make sure Jaina would get out safely, even if that meant finally facing her himself. He could not be reassured that at least this time she had backup; he could not imagine she had been able to hide a weapon anywhere in her slip-dress or heels. When he turned to look at her again, however, he noticed that Jaina was watching Kyp and himself with hardly any attempt at disguise. Kyp was right; he wasn't helping her at all.

"I just have to find Scooti," he finally conceded.

"Make it quick. You've already used your extra time griping. And don't come back to this cantina for at least another year if you have any sense of self-preservation."

Zekk _really_ hoped that didn't imply a long-term mission. He focused instead on finding Scooti and extracting the mechanic from a knife throwing game about to go sour.

As soon as he stepped out of the cantina, Scooti in unamused tow, Zekk wanted to turn right back around. He kept going anyway.

_**x-x-x**_

When Raven and Hrul returned to their ship, Zekk was not surprised that they had decided to stay docked. "Just until we find another job," Raven added. "Scooti hasn't visited the jails yet, I see. I'm sure she'll make up for lost time."

Hrul snorted, and headed into the ship. "How do we know she hasn't already set it up?" he rumbled.

Raven grinned before turning back to Zekk. "By the way, that cantina Scooti was raving about—people have been disappearing faster'n usual. Best not go back anytime soon."

Somehow, Zekk was not surprised by any of it. Not even a bit.

_**x-x-x**_


	2. Chapter 2

_When Raven and Hrul returned to their ship, Zekk was not surprised that they had decided to stay docked. "Just until we find another job," Raven added. "Scooti hasn't visited the jails yet, I see. I'm sure she'll make up for lost time."_

_Hrul snorted, and headed into the ship. "How do we know she hasn't already set it up?" he rumbled._

_Raven grinned before turning back to Zekk. "By the way, that cantina Scooti was raving about—people have been disappearing faster'n usual. Best not go back anytime soon."_

_Somehow, Zekk was not surprised by any of it. Not even a bit._

_**x-x-x**_

Zekk was even less surprised when, the next day, a small figure barrelled him into a back alley. Even once he was in the alley, Jaina kept pushing until they were halfway down the side street before she dragged him into a doorway. "You kriffing son of a Sith—" she reared up.

He decided it was in his best interests to cut her off. She looked even angrier than he had expected. "You're alright. I mean, what are you doing here?"

Jaina focused on him her blackest glare. "Fake amnesia," she said, "will not get you out of this. What the kriff do you think I'm doing here? What are _you_ doing here? Or in that bar, for kriff's sake? A death wish isn't any more acceptable than amnesia, Zekk."

Apparently, she wasn't going to take the bait for distraction. Zekk tried again; he had hoped for more time to prepare, and even the past night hadn't filled his ideal quota. "The ship's mechanic—Scooti—wanted to go. Probably for the trouble. I was keeping an eye out for her. What's so bad about it?"

Jaina's mouth tightened across her face; Jedi Knight Solo, who had fought on Quec'slig, and lost a war. "Stay away from there, Zekk. That whole neighbourhood. You have no idea—"

"Well, obviously not, Miss Cryptic," he snapped, taking the offensive. "I grew up on Coruscant. I'm not easy prey."

Jaina's expression, if anything, only got darker, sterner. Her face was almost unfamiliar to him, no ready sign of his friend to be found. For the first time, he seriously wondered what, exactly, he had done to Jaina with his disappearance. "There are some—many—things that you aren't ready to fight, Zekk, and this is one of them. Don't walk into that bar again, do you understand me? I might not be able to drag you out alive."

At least they weren't talking about six months ago anymore, Zekk thought, but he felt a chill. "Raven said people have been disappearing," he said, watching the Jedi carefully. He noticed more than he wanted to. "You and Kyp are here to stop them?"

Jaina ignored his question. "Did she say anything else?" It sounded like a reflex. "How'd she find out?"

Zekk shook his head, then looked away. "She only said that she heard people were disappearing. 'Faster than usual.'" He hesitated. "I could ask around."

"No." Jaina's reply was both immediate and sharp. "Absolutely not."

He reared back a bit at the command. "Excuse me?"

"Stay the kriff out of anything to do with this, Zekk."

"I'm not a kid—"

"But I'm a kriffing Jedi Knight," she snapped, getting uncomfortably close. "This is my mission, and I know a _sith_ of a lot more about this than you can even imagine, and you are not getting in the way." She couldn't hold it back any longer. "And why the sith hells did you just take off like that, you stupid kriffer?"

Jaina looked ready to punch him, and Zekk took an instinctive step back. "I took a co-piloting job," he said. "They shipped out quick."

Jaina sneered, reflecting his disgust. "Right, too quick to say anything. You stupid— Stay the hells out of that cantina, Zekk. I'm not feeling very knight-in-shining-robes for you at the moment." She pushed past him, and was swallowed by the crowd before he had stepped back into the alley.

He couldn't be sure, but—had her eyes been wet?

"Kriff."

_**x-x-x**_

Scooti probably thought he was in permanent buzz-kill mode, and she gave him the finger when he tried to cut her browsing short. He decided to defy Hrul and leave her alone. Arguing with Jaina had put a roadblock on his best attempts at denial. His best bet at distraction, he decided, was to stick his nose in the part she had warned him out of.

Raven was playing cards with Hrul when Zekk returned to the _Hawk_. Zekk pulled up a chair and started without delay. "Raven, what exactly did you hear about the Dustbowl?"

"Don't even think it," she warned Hrul. She glanced at Zekk. "Scooti didn't bring it up again, did she? Hrul'll rattle some sense into her, if needs be."

"No, but it's Mos Eisley. 'It's dangerous' isn't really a surprise, except that anyone felt the need to say it."

Raven shrugged, but wasn't casual. "I mentioned it to our employer'n he got mighty jumpy. Said people were disappearin', not like usual, an' I'd best see my crew stayed outta it."

"He didn't say anything else?"

Hrul was trying to stare Raven down, but he grunted a reminder. "That Jedi."

Raven was smirking at Hrul, though her voice was graver. "Right, the man said even a Jedi had gone missin'. An' magic folk—people who knew things, that sort. An' if they can't stop it, well, the rest of us better keep a sharp eye about. Read 'em and weep, Hrul." Raven displayed her cards with feigned boredom.

Hrul growled profanities that Zekk would have been physically unable to repeat. The conversation was finished. Zekk headed for his own room, considering the bare information he had. If a Jedi had in fact disappeared, then that immediately explained Jaina and Kyp's presence on a world outside of the New Republic's jurisdiction. But the others—Zekk wondered if there was any design to who was disappearing, if it included Jedi and "people who knew things." If so, then Jaina had obviously overreacted; he didn't fit the profile of the disappeared, and she didn't know Coruscant's undercity the way Zekk did.

But it was more than that, too, Zekk admitted. Besides his pride, Zekk remembered Brakiss, and how he had never heard anything about the mad old man after his escape.

He remembered the waiting, and Jaina after Quec'slig, too, but that went without saying. Despite their argument earlier—and perhaps because of it, and his better understanding—six months later, Zekk finally felt ready to finish whatever they had started.

In defiance of Jaina-hammered good sense, Zekk would definitely return to the Dustbowl that night.

_**x-x-x**_

Zekk looked different that night; he knew it even without Scooti's whistle, or Raven's appraising eye. If Jaina was playing a protective role, then so would he, especially if there was any real risk for him to take. The black clothing was for dangerous jobs, when the whole crew came along to make an impression. The blaster on his hip was partly for show; the holster almost hidden by his cape, and the knife in his sleeve were not; Coruscant's undercity hummed in his blood. With any luck, his background would be recognizable, and eyes would shift to easier prey.

Once inside the cantina, Zekk ordered a deep red drink, and sat at the bar. He didn't see Jaina or Kyp yet, but he didn't expect the Jedi to make any kind of contact if he missed them. Instead, he tuned into the audible chaos that he hadn't paid any attention to the previous night. Schemes, threats, and bribes abounded in this sort of place. Drugs were sold and used; less than savoury nights arranged; and dozens of jobs, the kind Raven wouldn't dare take, were planned. He wasn't focused on the normal mayhem. Menace and crime could be found in any bar in Mos Eisley; threat was familiar to the Dustbowl's clients. But the night's fear was not at all characteristic of its type, and the crowd was far thinner than it should have been.

It could be just the rumours, he supposed, even with the healthy egos of bounty hunters and criminals. But the fear hummed, too, with secrets. No wonder Jaina was playing the pretty girl; but unless she was beating boys on the side, all she'd have was—something he couldn't imagine her giving—and chivalry that would have died a long time ago. All other avenues would take time Jaina didn't have. She had probably been spitting mad even before she saw him the night previous.

This, at least, he could help her with.

The bartender brought Zekk's drink, and the young human slid some credits across the bar. "Quiet night," he remarked.

The being—Zekk couldn't name his species—counted the credits, noted the tip, and nodded briefly. "Certain type o'people," the bartender said back. "Not the regulars. Others. Explains your face."

Zekk looked down the bar. "Dropped off for work. Thought I'd check in."

"You'll want to speak to him, over there, then. Always hiring these days."

When Zekk followed the bartender's nod, he was not surprised to recognize one of the men Jaina had been flirting with—the dangerous one's companion, probably a lackey. Zekk dropped another credit on the counter. "I see him."

The bartender might have had more to say, but a Wookiee interjected with a demanding kind of growl. The bartender grabbed his credit and left. Zekk hid his scowl with a swallow of his drink. When he had replaced it on the counter, Zekk was convinced that he could blame paranoia for his sensation of being watched. Even so, when fingers suddenly dug into his right shoulder, Zekk's hand wasted no time going to the grip of his blaster.

"I told you to stay out of here," Jaina snarled, mostly under her breath.

Zekk reholstered his blaster, and turned to look at her. "I'm not even close to the type of person they're looking for."

"What do you even know about what 'they' are looking for, nerfherder?" she sneered.

"They're looking for—" Zekk lowered his voice. "For Jedi, or people who could be, right? Like you. Raven said they were looking for people who 'knew things'—why else would the Jedi get called in? For that matter, you seem to like dangerous missions."

"I'm not here for the danger," Jaina said, her voice suspiciously even, almost removed. "But I'm beginning to think you are. Hey, get me the usual," she shouted at the bartender.

"This is no more dangerous than Coruscant, and maybe even less," Zekk muttered. "These people are scared."

"And hiding something," she hissed back. "Not such a great combination, yeah? Besides, they're not being nearly so discriminating anymore, and fresh faces won't be missed. Especially if they belong to co-pilots who're just dropping by for a drink. So for kriff's sake, would you just—"

"Found a new boy, have you?" interrupted a stranger. An arm wrapped and tightened around Jaina's waist. "Miss Strata, you heartbreaker."

Jaina froze for hardly a second before she disappeared behind her mask. She turned as much as she could—the man must have had a very tight hold on her—and giggled ridiculously. "Joolu, really."

The dangerous man, the one across whom Jaina had draped herself the previous night, bared his teeth, and winked at Zekk. "Sorry, boy. All the girls want the boss, but she has to prove herself first. You know how it is. Work your way from the bottom."

Zekk had the sudden, near-overwhelming urge to smash Joolu's head into the edge of the counter. Jaina stomped on Zekk's foot immediately after, a warning as if she had caught the mental image. Zekk comforted himself that Joolu's future jail mates would probably do far worse than Zekk ever could. The thought gave his smile a vicious edge that seemed to pass muster; Jaina's foot eased off of his toes. "Perks of the job," the dark-haired man conceded as blandly as possible.

Joolu's smile became increasingly disturbing; Zekk knew this man's type. "One of them."

Jaina managed to turn around and place herself directly between Zekk and Joolu. "I'm just waiting for my drink. Did you want me to order you something while you settle in, babe?"

"You know what I like," Joolu said—clearly an order—even as the full weight of his focus moved to Zekk. "But who's this?"

Jaina's eyes glided right over Zekk. "Just some—I don't know." She glanced at Zekk's hands. "He never said. Pilot, grease monkey? Something boring." She waved at the bartender, then somehow managed to sidle closer to Joolu. "I was only mocking his drink. Why don't you—"

"I'll do as I please," Joolu snapped, carelessly pushing Jaina to the counter. "Who are you?" he demanded of Zekk.

Zekk almost reached up to steady Jaina, who had stumbled in her heels and tight dress, but caught himself at the last moment. "Rax Perl. Freelancer," he answered, looking speculative. "Whatever gets the bills paid these days."

Jaina's elbow knocked Zekk's drink almost into his lap. "Damn," she said as he dodged the red liquid. It spattered on his left knee, and down to the floor by Jaina feet. "Sorry about that." The familiar temper in her eyes assured him that it was accidental only in that he was not currently soaked in alcohol.

Joolu yanked at her hair; if it was supposed to look playful, Jaina's grimace assured Zekk that it was not. "Now, now, Miss Lelo Strata. That sort of clumsiness won't sit well with my employer. Try to make up for it soon."

Jaina's expression was bland. Zekk wondered that she didn't throw Joolu across the room. "My arm slipped."

"I'm sure," Zekk muttered to her.

"I can't abide clumsiness," Joolu said, sliding his hand up to Jaina's neck. "I do apologize for the girl; she'll be punished. But a freelancer—looking for work now, I suppose."

Zekk purposefully took a swallow of his drink, letting his rage simmer down to a controllable level, before he spoke. "I just finished a job," he agreed.

Jaina's drink finally came—a sparkling, violet concoction—and she took a deep gulp before murmuring Joolu's order to the waiting bartender. Her eyes met Zekk's; for the first time, she looked far more worried than angry. "So a girl has to prove herself, but the boss will let you hire anyone?" She pouted at Joolu.

"Work boys are simpler." Joolu's smile was razor sharp. "If it doesn't work out, we'll just shoot him." He considered Zekk. "Then again, I'll strangle you if you look at me wrong, so maybe it isn't all that different."

Zekk decided that he absolutely was not going anywhere, no matter how many death glares Jaina sent him. Even knowing that Kyp was somewhere in the background was not sufficiently reassuring. "Why don't you let me know what kind of work you'd have me do, and I'll tell you if it's something I might have trouble with," Zekk said, meeting Joolu's eyes squarely.

Jaina downed her drink in one go, and was waving for a refill even before she had replaced her glass onto the counter.


	3. Chapter 3

Jaina came alongside Zekk a good hour's walk from the cantina. "He's going to kill you," she told Zekk, striding forward with him and refusing to meet his eyes. "And if he doesn't, I'm tempted to do it for him. Have you completely lost your mind?"

"I'm playing mailboy, Jaina. It's not like I've been put in charge of the psychopath's 'grace' standards."

Jaina grabbed Zekk's hand, sharply pulling him to a halt. "Exactly what do you think you'll be delivering—tax invoices?"

Zekk studied her worried expression, and the fatigue in her eyes. Outside of the bar, it was easier to see just how worn down she was. Not like Quatroc—not devastated and drained—but the mission's toll was unmistakable. "Jaina, what exactly is going on? I'm getting involved, whether you want me to or not, but I can be more helpful—safer, even—if I have a clue."

Jaina tried to stare him down for a moment, then sighed in apparent surrender. "Fine—but not in a crowd. And we have to take the long way—just in case. Follow me, and don't fall behind."

Without further warning, the Jedi led Zekk on an elaborate route, dodging between people and oncoming traffic, into shops and out back doors. It was a good half hour before they finally ducked into a small grease spoon near the slave quarters. Jaina pulled Zekk directly to a table at the back. When they sat down, he immediately noticed the broken light above them. Once his eyes adjusted, he could see well enough, but he knew Jaina had chosen it specifically.

"Have you eaten yet?" she asked, not looking at him.

"It's past midnight."

"I'm starving. I haven't eaten since—I guess it's yesterday morning, now." Jaina rubbed her temples, perhaps trying to wake up.

"How are you not drunk off your rocker?"

Jaina waved at the serving droid, which bobbed its way to them. "No alcohol on the job. Just caffeine, and lots of it. Hey, I'll have—" Jaina glanced at her menu, then back at the waiting droid. "The burger, fries, your daily soup, and a mug of caf. And water, as soon as you can. Zekk?"

He shook his head. "Nothing for me, thanks." He waited until the droid had returned with Jaina's drinks and left again, before he leaned forward. "So, what is Joolu's boss running?"

Jaina started to reply, pressed her lips together to reconsider, then opened her mouth again "Joolu works for—a number of people, really, and we won't catch half of them on this mission. But his boss is a man named Traest. He's—" Jaina's lips tightened. "He's the one we're after, this time."

Zekk drummed his fingers on the table, noticing Jaina's tight grip on her mug of caf. Her eyes flicked up to met his, but he sensed her withdrawal. "What's happening?" he asked finally. "The people who are disappearing, what's happening to them? Is it—a prejudice thing—I mean, hate crimes? Or…"

Jaina swallowed some of her caf; judging by her grimace, it was either too hot or too bitter. She cleared her throat. "Part of it is for a, um, a specific niche of the slave market—of Force sensitives—or people that they think are Force sensitive. As far as we can tell, that's how it started. It isn't just the Dustbowl, but it's been more obvious there—and many of those involved are taking advantage of it as a meeting place. These are dangerous people, even for their sort—the kind of dangerous that doesn't require subtlety, and they're aware of it."

The droid-waiter deposited a bowl of soup and an enormous burger in front of Jaina. "Anything else?" it asked. The droid was supposed to hover, but had long since degraded to pitching forward and dropping as its propulsion energy gave out and recuperated in fits.

Jaina indulged in a mechanic's overview of the droid's flaws, but shook her head. "We're good, thanks." Her mouth was already stuffed with a fry. Zekk noticed that she had actually managed to scrub most of the grease stains off her fingers, though her nails were still short and uneven. It was absurdly reassuring, given the distance in her manner, and the mischaracter of her appearance, that she had not managed to hide everything.

He let her finish her burger—which she did in several impossibly large and rapid bites—before he continued his interrogation. "You said they _started_ with abducting people for slavery. Do you mean they've…changed their goals?"

"They're expanding," Jaina reluctantly answered. "Once word got out—and Force sensitives are a very small percentage of the population, I mean the ones who are obviously different and capable of other…abilities. They got creative. Traest has been seen with some particularly amoral geneticists. Judging by that, and some financial clues, and their broadened criteria—indiscriminate abductions—we have reason to believe that Traest is experimenting on the abductees. He's trying—or his boss, who knows who thought it up—to…to make Force sensitives, I guess, or to alter or remove sensitivity once it's there. As you can imagine, the Jedi have about five hundred objections to that, even after the issue of involuntary sentient experimentation."

Jaina was staring at him, perhaps waiting for Zekk to recoil or realize what he had cavalierly assumed he could handle. He appreciated that she still had that much faith in him, but felt quite unable to do anything more than stare back at her. Jaina finally shook her head, and started working on her soup.

"Well." Zekk cleared his throat, and rubbed his forehead. "You sure can pick 'em, Jaina. I'll give you that."

Her head jerked up, and her eyes were stormy so that Zekk actually pushed back in his seat. "Meaning?"

He swallowed, then remembered who he was talking to, even after six months. "These missions, Jaina. Do you pick through the list for the most dangerous ones possible, or are you just that lucky?"

Jaina made a show of relaxing, but her armour remained at the ready. "I can get the job done. And—this one's personal."

"Care to explain?"

"If you feel like talking about why you just took off without a word."

He started to say something, but subsided. Her temper rattled against its cage, only barely contained, and he knew as well as he had ever known Jaina that she was looking for someone to rip to shreds. He nodded, and resolved to let Peckhum talk the next time Zekk commed; the old spacer might have some insight, whether Zekk liked it or not.

"So there's no chance of getting Traest's boss?" he asked instead.

Jaina simmered. "Traest and his lackeys are plenty ambitious, I assure you. With any luck, we'll be able to snare Traest's mentor as well, but anything more would require every Jedi we have, a galaxy-wide operation, and the bulk of NR Intel as well. That's another reason I'm on this mission—I'm familiar with their operations." She smiled grimly. "Cruxx was one branch, and—others, too." Her face was pinched in a way that said _Quec'slig_. "We're working on it."

Zekk nodded, turning it over in his mind.

Jaina sighed, and pushed her plate to the middle of the table. "Fries?" she offered.

He took one and chewed it while Jaina sipped her caf. "Peckhum told me you've been stopping by," he ventured. "Helping him with the _Lightning Rod_, keeping an eye on him. Well," he grinned at her, "he insists that he's really keeping you glued together."

Jaina's expression relaxed slowly before she allowed a brief smile. "I knew how—that is, I knew that you'd worry about him." The friendship looked strained, but more genuine than it had been since their argument. "And he's a great guy—plus, the _Rod_ is falling apart; I couldn't resist."

"Thank you."

She paused, then dropped her gaze to her mug. "Well, if I'm going to shove you out of Coruscant in less than a week, I'd better be ready to help out."

She wouldn't give him a better window than that. "For what it's worth," he said, "I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention to…"

Jaina's shouldered tightened. "I waited at the Flash for almost an hour before your replacement broke the news. Mique was hiding in the corner, wouldn't even look at me. I mean, kriff, you couldn't even leave a note? No," she said, raising a hand to ward him off. Her face was closed again. "I don't want to hear it. I am—so pissed off at you, which I think I'm more than entitled to, and setting yourself up to get killed didn't help your case. What were you _thinking_, volunteering to Joolu?"

"It'll give you an in to sabotage one of their jobs, or at least get more information. I didn't plan it, but I figured I owe you that much."

"You don't owe me anything," Jaina fired back. "And don't you have a job?"

"Raven's stopped here for a bit to find a new job. I'll be here at least another week, probably more."

"Joolu will kill you if you back out. He'll probably kill you even if you don't." Jaina sighed, and leaned back in her seat. "I wish you hadn't agreed to it, Zekk. This mission is bad enough without you throwing yourself into the fray."

He studied the shadows of her face, the whiteness of her knuckles, a yellowing bruise just unhidden on the side of her neck. Her lips were smudged darkly—her lipstick had smeared. It gutted him, in a breathless moment, just how deeply every bit of her called to every part of him; and his resolve grew. "I'm a part of it now," he told her when he had regained some of his self-control, "so you can either ignore me, or let me help."

Jaina took a deep breath, and finally—really—looked at him. "I sure can pick them," he thought she muttered. Louder, she said, "I have to talk to my team. Meet me in the marketplace—the one I followed you to last time—tomorrow at noon." She peered at her chrono. "Today, noon, I guess. Come alone, and let me approach you. I doubt Joolu will have you followed, but I'm not risking it. I've been on this mission for weeks, Zekk, not counting the pre-op work; you are not blowing my cover."

"I've dealt with men like Joolu before, Jaina."

"Well, be careful anyway," she snapped. "If you get yourself killed, I will _never_ forgive you, do you understand me? I'm not telling Peckhum that you stuck yourself in a bad mission, and underestimated the risks."

Zekk rose, smiling despite himself. "Do you know, Jaina, I missed you, but I hadn't even realized how much."

Jaina wrapped her hands around her hot mug. She contemplated it for a moment, then lifted her eyes to his. "Well," she said, "you always were slow."

He could have almost—but he grinned to cover it up. "I'll see you later, Jaina."

"Don't keep me waiting this time," she told him. When he glanced back at her, she was drinking the last of her caf; the mug obscured her face. Nonetheless, her message was clear.

Zekk had his work cut out for him.

_**x-x-x**_

Zekk's room was dark when he returned. The rest of the ship was silent, and almost as dark—he had let the sleep cycle lights lead him through the familiar walkways. The others were either asleep, or enjoying Mos Eisley's nightlife and the crew's open schedule. Raven ran a tight ship until she found herself between jobs, and then she took her time making a new schedule. They could easily be in Mos Eisley for a few weeks before Raven contracted work again.

Zekk found his bunk by touch and sat down, not bothering with the lights. He had planned to comm Peckhum about Jaina, but it would be as early on Coruscant as it was late for Zekk.

He was tired, but did not start preparing for sleep. His eyes were adjusting to the dark as best they could, aided by his familiarity with the small room. His desk; drawers; the small sink and mirror; the gadgets and tools spread across any available flat surface; a few datapads with information on piloting, mechanics, and one on Outer Rim government. His new life, contained in the belly of a ship, surrounded by crewmembers. A whole new life for an orphan scavenger, now flying across the galaxy.

He closed his eyes. He hadn't worked this hard for anything besides survival in years, and it had paid off even with his co-workers, who were beginning to accept him. Trust was a rare commodity amongst smugglers, even with co-pilots who could hardly claim ignorance if boarded. The crew was less careful and suspicious by far than they had been when Zekk had started. They weren't friends, but Scooti let him tag along, and Hrul helped him with repairs.

It wasn't enough, Zekk admitted in the dark. There was something missing, and he hadn't been able to see it until tonight. Irony was a kriffer.

"Well, then," he muttered. "Time to get to work."


	4. Chapter 4

Peckhum always looked older as a holo, but Zekk had learned to stop asking about the spacer's health after the second tirade. He saved his scrutiny instead for Coruscant layovers. When Zekk finally asked about Jaina, however, Peckhum's expression was mischievous enough for a much younger man. "Haven't seen her in a month, because she's on a mission," Peckhum gossiped. "Somewhere on the Outer Rim. She looked—"

"I just ran into her, actually." Zekk suspected that his expression was as rueful as his voice, but he couldn't quite control either. "On Tatooine."

Peckhum looked almost too gleeful, as if he had arranged the awkward encounter himself. "Did you?" he crowed. "How'd it go?"

Zekk didn't have the heart to tease the old spacer about a holo-film reunion. "Well, she didn't hit me," he said. "Although she could be saving up. She really wasn't too happy about me."

"Told you to talk before leaving, didn't I?" Peckhum sounded surprisingly unconcerned. "How'd it go?"

"Besides the part where she yelled at me and probably hates me?"

Peckhum pshawed. "Hell hath no fury, my boy, but that girl no more hates you than she ever did."

"Well, I sort of inserted myself into her mission, despite her threats, so she's probably changed her mind."

Finally, Peckhum's smug grin subsided. "Your girl didn't talk about the job much before she left, but she said it was dangerous."

"I'll be fine, Peckhum."

Zekk's guardian wasn't completely reassured. "You couldn't have just bought her flowers, taken her out for dinner? Girls like that stuff. Jaina's a girl. Sort of."

"I think she'd prefer a new tool box over a garden, actually. But I'm trying to help." Zekk became more serious. "Not just for her, either. The mission—it's bad news. It wouldn't be right, not doing anything to help."

"It means you can't distract her," Peckhum said, sounding disappointed. "But being a hero could work out, too. Remember: play to your strengths, remind her why she fell for you in the first place."

Zekk paused, but forced the words out. "Did she?"

Peckhum looked torn between exclaiming his jubilation, and slamming his head against a wall several times. "Uhnk," he said instead. And then, "Duh?"

Zekk smiled crookedly. "I think there's quite a bit of Jaina I missed," he conceded.

"That'll happen when you close your eyes," Peckhum agreed. "Does this mean you're finished being an idiot?"

The younger man snorted. "I can't make any guarantees.

"Good stars, boy, you better. Even Jaina won't wait around forever." Peckhum waved a hand dismissively. "Now, we've got to hash out your game plan."

Zekk grinned. "You're taking over, are you?"

"The last time you had your big chance, you split over a tabloid. You need all the hope you can get."

Zekk shook his head, and glanced at his chrono. "Later, Casanova. I have to meet Jaina."

"Excellent. You should kiss her," Peckhum ordered. "You've got too many crossed wires already; can't go wrong with bold statements at this point."

"Sure, that'll go over great," Zekk agreed. "Right up until she kicks my ass into next week."

Peckhum groaned in protest. "At least buy her flowers. And change your shirt. Who ever told you that you could pull off the slob look, anyway?"

Zekk glanced down at his repair clothes. "The—since when do you know anything about fashion?"

"Mique and I were talking about it. Wear that black tunic of yours, the one with green trim."

"It's the middle of the day," Zekk said, taken aback. "You did hear me say this is Tatooine, right?"

"Jaina said it brings out your eyes. And pull your hair back, for stars' sake. And I'll comm Jaina later."

Zekk had been about to laugh, but the sound quickly died in his throat. "Don't you _dare_, old man. I mean it," he stressed, seeing Peckhum's protest. "Don't even think of it, not even for engine advice."

"I'll save it for an extreme case," Peckhum conceded reluctantly.

"For the extreme case where you want me to not talk to you for months?" Zekk warned. "I have to get going—"

"Right, right, move along. Don't forget about the flowers."

"I'll think about it," Zekk lied.

"I know you're lying. Might be getting old, but I can still see you just fine, boy."

"Try not to let your imagination run away with you, old man," Zekk warned. "She's only talking to me so I won't get shot. Or at least, so she doesn't miss an opening to get more information for her mission."

Unexpectedly, this subdued Peckhum's glee, if just for the moment. "Zekk, there was something up when she left. More than it's being dangerous. She was hard about it. It ain't just work for her."

Zekk paused, thinking about how Jaina _really could pick them_, but gave Peckhum a grim smile. "It isn't 'just work' for anyone with half a moral code, Peckhum, I can tell you that much."

"Be careful." Peckhum missed a beat. "You look ridiculous swathed in bandages and bacta. Not the way to win a girl back at all."

"Hilarious. Wonderful. I've created a monster," Zekk muttered. "I'll talk to you later, Peckhum."

The holo blue flickered and faded for a moment. "Comm me back, tell me how it goes."

Zekk smiled and nodded, flicking off his holo-comm. It was entirely possible, Zekk realized, that he would never hear the end of this, and even Peckhum's ghost wouldn't let him forget it.

"Just get the girl to stop hating you first," he reminded himself. "Deal with everything else after that. Just deal with Jaina Solo's temper, and then it's all downhill from there."

_**x-x-x**_

Zekk wandered the market for just over half an hour before Jaina sidled up next to him. He raised an eye at her more provocative version of a tunic and leggings, but her uncomfortable fidgeting warned him off. "What do you think?" he asked her instead.

Jaina hesitated, then stepped closer to him. She leaned in, and plucked the item from his hands to examine it. "What's it supposed to be? Besides the galaxy's greasiest flimsi-weight."

"You're one to complain about grease," he mocked lightly. He nodded at her fingers. "You probably scrubbed off skin before you got to any grease stains."

She made a face at him, then returned her gaze to the gadget. "It looks kind of like a chrono piece. I mean—not a wrist one, unless it was for someone enormous—but a display chrono? A really old one, probably; pre-digital, or at least pretending to be."

"Do you think it's salvageable?"

Jaina peered closer before seeming to remember herself. She handed it back to him rather abruptly. "I don't know. I'm not here to do your shopping. Does this mean you've decided to drop out of that job?" She smiled prettily.

He grinned back. "Never even crossed my mind. It must be driving you crazy to be around all these gadgets and not be able to tinker with them."

Jaina's smile disappeared completely. "Let's just get this over with, shall we?"

"You're not the only one who thinks these people need to be stopped," he informed her, returning the chrono part to the display table. The stall's owner scowled at him, but he only shrugged at her. "I'm not a Jedi, but I want to do what I can."

Jaina blew her bangs out of her face, adjusted the loose shoulder and wide neck of her tunic, and squinted at the sun. "I got here later than I expected. Joolu stopped by this morning—"

Zekk's head snapped to look at her. "He _what_?"

"To give me details on your job," she explained smoothly. She started to look irritated before curiosity diverted her reaction. "'He what,' what? He's a psychopathic thug who thinks I'm trying to earn my way into the boss' bed. As my _friend_—" her tone was saturated with mockery, "—why should you have a problem with that?"

He bit the inside of his mouth, and counted to ten. Jaina led him deeper into the crowd, having apparently said her piece. "Don't get snippy," he said, to himself as well as her, "or we'll have to talk about it."

"I don't think you want to start that any more than I do," she retorted. "Seeing as it'll just make me want to hit you."

He grabbed her elbow, making her stop even in the push and pull of the crowd. "Hey," he said. "We're both adults, and there are experiments and slave rings to stop. Try to be professional and not kill me, would you? We have to work together." Seeing her expression, he added, "Look at it this way. The sooner we finish here, the sooner you can thump me."

Jaina looked thoughtful; the right corner of her lips curled just a little. "Promise?"

He eyed her. Jaina's temper could power Coruscant, but any time delay helped—especially if Zekk managed to pull off the impossible. But his face couldn't afford for him to underestimate the force behind a pissed off Jedi's punch. "I'll even give you one freebie," he finally said. "Now, what did Joolu set up?"

Jaina took a piece of folded flimsi out of her back pocket, and handed it to him. Her fingers shied from his. "But just wait a moment, until we're in the alley. Crowds are only good for so much."

He followed her into a different alley from last time, down another back street, and eventually into the outskirts of the market district, bordering the slave quarters from the previous night. She leaned against a store's outside wall, and nodded. "Joolu will have done a background check on you by now—that alias won't have helped much with the _Hawk_ docked nearby, and no preparation—so he knows you're unusually clean for this kind of work. He probably picked this job to startle a reaction out of you."

Zekk unfolded the flimsi, and read it quickly. "It's just an address."

Jaina nodded. "It's an abandoned club a few blocks from the Dustbowl. Joolu wouldn't put anything else in a note, but you're supposed to show up there tonight at 1700 hours. He'll have you leave from there with the message, or bribes, or—whatever he's decided. Joolu's better off if he isn't seen in certain areas too often."

Zekk turned the flimsi over in his hand. "Do you think I'll get into the labs?"

Jaina's fingers had risen to her mouth, as if to bite her nails. "Maybe. There'll be someone around to see how you react, so you can't show anything—no matter what you see, if it's the labs, or a—slave holding pen." He had never seen her indulge in it before, but Jaina resorted to gently biting down on one of her nails. "You can still back out, Zekk. Kyp and I would cover for you."

"That's not going to happen, so how about if you just tell me the plan?"

Jaina sighed, apparently resigned, and dropped her hand. "We can't do anything the first time; they'll be on red alert, waiting for you to mess up. But we'll have some gadgets for you—my team's prepping them right now—audio, maybe some tracking device if we can put it together in time, that sort of thing. Recon only. Kyp's gone on a few trips, but Joolu got suspicious, or just didn't like him. Kyp's never been… Well, he can be very unsettling," she finished—rather tactfully, Zekk thought.

"You're not exactly built for this job either," Zekk pointed out.

"I have plenty of motivation to find Traest; more than enough to play a part. But Joolu is looking for different things from me than he was from Kyp." Belatedly, she tugged at her wide, slowly falling tunic neck.

Zekk scowled despite himself. "I noticed."

"Well, any and all weaknesses. It's not like I'm _doing_ anything. There have been worse missions."

"Even while you were dating Jag for a year? A guy who proposed to you?"

Jaina rolled her eyes. "You're like a broken holo-disc. I never intended to marry Jag." Her jaw was set in a familiarly stubborn way. "You didn't _really_ think I would, did you?" She cut her hand through the air. "Don't answer that."

"I read—"

"Of course you did."

"There was a holo-image," he insisted. "Of you, wearing an engagement ring. You were with Jag, even."

"Jag never even _bought_ a ring, so they obviously manipulated it. Once he asked me, I don't think even Jag really expected us to bite the bullet. We're friends, and we'll stay friends, but there was no kriffing ring, and don't you know any better than to believe the tabloids by now? I mean—kriff, at best, it was probably just some girl who looks like me. I'm pretty average looking."

"It was you, Jaina," he demurred. "And it wasn't a fake."

The coldness in Jaina's eyes told him that she was five minutes past walking off and leaving him, until something—it almost looked like dread—flashed across her face. "Do you…still have it?"

"Not on me. Maybe somewhere on the _Hawk_."

She was more composed now, almost as if nothing had happened. "Fine. I'll take a look at it, if you can find it. We can settle your irrational belief in the tabloids once and for all."

He had to bring her back in a way that didn't further inspire her ire. "Is there somewhere you want me to meet you for the…gadgets?"

Jaina's chin dropped, but he could see her looking out of the corner of her eye—not at him, over his shoulder. Her shoulders moved back against the stone wall. She let her tunic neck slide unhindered down one shoulder. "We'll have to do a much better job of shaking Joolu's tails," she murmured. Her smile up at him was foreign. Well, he considered, maybe not _completely_ unknown—but twisted for a part, and he didn't quite like it.

"He gave you instructions, didn't he?" Zekk asked. He moved into Jaina's space, the way any crook would with a woman who looked like Jaina. _Characters_, he reminded her with a smirk when her eyes darkened. "He'll just think you're relaying them."

"Well…" Jaina's lips pursed; she almost looked embarrassed. "Right, he did—"

"He _didn't_," Zekk realized. "Why—" His smirk became more real. "So when I was—you're a sly one, Jay—"

She pushed up against him quickly. "Shut up before they hear you," she hissed close to his neck.

He lowered his voice; given how close they were, he suspected that she was listening more with the Force than with her ears. "Joolu will be jealous," he teased her, feeling closer to afternoons in the Flash and evenings in the sky than he had since their argument.

Her head tilted to the side as if to play coy; her eyes were more exasperated. "I'd forgotten how much of a jerk you can be."

"_Great_ comeback, really. Your wit slays me. Admit it, though—you missed me anyway." He wanted to snatch the words back as soon as he heard them in the air.

The light dimmed in her eyes, turned flat and even. The smile stayed on her face, but only for Joolu's man. "Of course I missed you, kriffer. And Joolu did stop by, but thought Kyp would give you the information, or that I would just mail it off to you, since we _don't know each other_. Which I would have done, except for you risking your neck."

He was still scrambling to recover from his faux pas. "Let it go, Jaina. I want to help. Most people would think that's a good thing."

"This is _my_ life, Zekk, my world, and you're the one visiting this time. You can't really expect me to think it's a good thing when trained Jedi and agents have already died for this sort of mission. Is it so shocking I don't want you involved?"

Zekk rubbed the frame of his nose, and sighed. "Is he—her, it, whatever—still watching us?"

He couldn't see her look, even at their current proximity, but she relaxed. Perhaps she had used the Force somehow; he really should ask her how that stuff worked. "He's distracted. We don't have anything else to say. Kyp will make contact with you tonight for the gadgets and the run-down on what'll happen."

"What about you?"

"I'll be at the Dustbowl again tonight," Jaina said tersely. "Joolu will be there, and I think we've pushed our luck enough today, don't you?"

"After, then. You'll want to know what I find, right?"

Jaina hesitated, and this time he did catch the way her eyes darted over his shoulder. "We'll see. I might not be able to get away, but—Kyp or I will debrief you after. We'll find you, okay? Don't come looking for either of us. Alright, when I say, go around the back of the store. There's an alley—follow it down, it wraps back around not too far from here. Just in case." She suddenly pushed him behind her. "Now."

"Be careful," he reminded her.

The smile was back on her face. "You, too. Idiot. Get going."

He glanced back once; Jaina was strutting into the crowd, calling to someone.

As a first step, he thought to himself, it could have gone much better.

_**x-x-x**_

"Well," Peckhum pointed out reasonably, a few hours later, "you didn't buy her flowers, did you?"

Zekk had to admit that he had not.

"And boy, no one sounds heroic on their own horn, so shut up."

"You spend way too much time with Mique," Zekk said, quite seriously. "Please remind him that you don't need any encouragement; you take things too far all on your own."

"And you don't take them far enough. You aren't _really_ going to show her that image, are you?"

Zekk glanced at his desk, where he had the _Planet_ article, including the picture of Jaina and her engagement ring. "It's her. I just want her to—"

"Isn't engaged to that colonel now, is she?"

Zekk's jaw clenched. "There's something here. And she told me to show it to her so she can answer a few questions."

Peckhum gave up, at least for the moment. "You'll be careful, tonight."

Zekk glanced at his chrono. "Yeah. I'm just delivering stuff, Peckhum. I probably won't see anything real, let alone dangerous." It was probably a lie, but not a _guaranteed_ one, even with Joolu's psychopathic tendencies.

"Right. While wearing 'gadgets,'" Peckhum said.

"Jaina isn't mad enough to want me dead," Zekk reassured the old spacer. "There'd probably be a lot of paperwork." He processed the look on Peckhum's face at his obvious faux pas, and grinned to cover it up. "It'll be fine, and I'll be careful, and I have to get going. I'll call you in the morning, and everything will still be okay. Alright?"

"Right." Peckhum still didn't look happy. "Just—be careful. Won't win the girl over by getting yourself killed."

Zekk refrained from bringing up the holo-vids. "I'm not stupid, Peckhum. I'll keep an eye on the exits."

"And the prize. Won't do to lose the girl, either, especially because you're too shy for flowers."

"I'll talk to you later, Peckhum."


	5. Chapter 5

The problem with befriending and then hurting a famous Jedi, unfortunately, was that her equally infamous friends were there to prep her missions. And if Jaina didn't want Zekk dead, then Kyp Durron—destroyer of Carida, rogue Jedi, and the tabloid love-of-Jaina-Solo's-life—appeared to have given the idea some serious consideration. "There you go," Kyp said, "all ready." And just to prove it, he clapped Zekk's back hard enough to almost send the pilot sprawling.

Zekk decided to be mature. "Hey, if you were less abrasive, you might actually be able to do your _job_, and Jaina wouldn't need any help getting a better look at the operation details."

"And if you hadn't kriffed up quite so spectacularly, Jaina might have missed being a part of this particular catastrophe." Kyp's smile had all the hallmarks of being agreeable, even down to the tone of his voice, except for the same sharp line of his smirk that had probably unsettled Joolu.

"Jaina would be a part of this mission if she had both feet in the grave."

Kyp didn't respond to Zekk's blatant prodding for more information. "She takes her missions very seriously. She can't help it—all the Solo-Skywalkers have hero complexes."

"But she wouldn't pass this one up if you shot her in the leg."

"I didn't try that, actually," Kyp said evenly. "But I think Mara would gut me if I pulled that one again. You could try, though."

Zekk rolled his eyes, but finally let it rest. He would find out soon enough, or make Jaina talk. At the very least, she'd probably let something slip in a carefully arranged argument. "Any tips for tonight?" he asked instead. "Piss off Joolu, wear a sign that says 'spy' on my back?"

Kyp motioned to Zekk's ear. "Just do the job. If you notice faces or any blatant violations, then all the better, but don't look for them. Joolu will probably give you something, too, so keep your expression flat as if Jaina started rhapsodizing about her latest gizmo. You've done enough without getting yourself killed on this mission. That earpiece should pick sounds up better than you do."

"How long will the contacts last?" Zekk asked, reminding himself not to rub at them.

"Four hours of regular images before they fall out. It's a mess, but the faint burn won't last. You'll have plenty of time to get out of there without anyone noticing the blue stuff." Zekk expected a crack, but Kyp restrained himself remarkably. It wasn't reassuring, somehow, although he knew that Kyp (probably) wouldn't place him in harm's way. At the very least, the Jedi wouldn't risk the mission.

"Fine," Zekk said. "Is there somewhere I should meet you afterwards?"

"If Joolu doesn't direct you back to the club, then don't go there tonight. Or ever, if you can manage it. Jaina or I—"

"Will find me," Zekk finished, rolling his eyes. "Right."

"Do you know where Joolu's meeting place is?" Kyp asked.

Zekk nodded. "I found it earlier."

"We can't stick around and be ready to help you. Joolu would pick up on it right away." The Jedi was busy sorting his instruments and replacing them in a leather bag. He paused, then scowled and confronted Zekk's eyes. "Jaina is family. And this would be the absolute worst mission for you to get hurt in, understand?"

Zekk rolled his eyes, by now very sick of Jaina and Kyp's condescension. "Cheer up, Durron. How bad can it be?"

_**x-x-x**_

_How bad _could _it be?_ Zekk wondered later, rather differently from how he had dared Kyp Durron. In the hovercar Joolu had given Zekk for the trip, Joolu's crates rattled and shifted, occasionally even thumping against the sides. Zekk's imagination was running wild, and a pit had been lodged in his stomach since Joolu's men started loading the crates into the hovercar at the abandoned club. The feeling had grown while he was blindfolded and taken part of the way. Even while on his own for the rest of the long trip into the desert, Zekk hadn't managed to calm his nerves, which were still skittering and increasingly so. He hoped the Jedi weren't monitoring his heartbeat.

Joolu's directions Zekk had led him to a small ramshackle hut that was either the smallest evil lair in the history of ego-driven beings, or the only sign of an underground compound. He raised his hand to knock on the door, and it swung open; Zekk just managed to jump out of the way before it hit him. Who installed swinging doors these days, anyway? He caught sight of two faces, and acted more confident than he felt. Now if he could just shake the feeling of empty nausea, he'd be fine.

The second being stepped forward to scrutinize the hovercar from afar, then gave Zekk a thorough lookover. "Papers," he growled.

Zekk held them out promptly. The door slammed shut for a moment. Zekk refrained from fidgeting; locking his jaw, he concentrated on appreciating the evening's cooler temperature. Besides the small hut, Zekk could see only dunes and pockmarks for miles around him. Desert, thought the city-raised man, just looked like every other bit of desert. He doubted he could distinguish this place from any other in Mos Eisley's outlying country.

The door re-opened, and the crates rustled. Zekk glanced back at the hovercar before meeting the eyes of a humanoid man. Cool amber eyes studied Zekk briefly. "Joolu's already on another courier, is he?" He flicked two fingers impatiently. "You can carry the crates into the building; I'll hold the door open. One of our investigators is just finishing the details of your background check, so if you start bleeding, we've probably found something suspicious."

His— Zekk swallowed, and chastised himself for being taken off guard. Jaina must have set up a background for the alias he had given Joolu. "Is this where you try to make me admit I'm part of a police operation?" Zekk volleyed. "On…Tatooine?" Somehow, the other man's words hadn't come across as a threat.

The blue-haired man almost grinned. "It would save me some time and paperwork." He looked to be about Zekk's age, perhaps a few years younger. When his eyes lightened, and his dark hair fell into his face, he looked vaguely familiar.

"Well, it wouldn't do to cut that out," Zekk sallied.

"Cart them in quickly, then, in case we have to shoot you. No reason to waste our time."

He was talking to a _complete_ psychopath, Zekk thought, and he only knew it because of the contrast between reality and the other man's fiction. Zekk kept his easy grin up. Ignoring all of his instincts, Zekk dutifully hauled four of the rattling crates inside the hut and onto a trolley. When he turned for the last one, the blue-haired man was already dragging it in with easy strength.

"Follow me," the other man said, hardly waiting for Zekk to finish balancing the crates. Zekk kept a close eye on the man, just a little more than necessary while descending in the lift and walking through an underground labyrinth. Zekk had lived on his instincts for a long time; whether from dumb luck of chance, or carelessness on the villains' part, Zekk recognized a leader when he saw one. He would not have been completely surprised if the man ahead of him was Traest, despite the man's friendly manner. The slowly approaching sounds suggested, at least, that he was not the kind of person he pretended to be.

"Don't mind them," the man said. "We're just putting in soundproofing; I don't suppose you know anything about that?"

Zekk swallowed, but his throat was dry and it felt sharp. "You're already underground."

"We'll figure it out. Ah, in here."

Zekk pushed the trolley in first, and checked his sabacc face. When the door shut behind them, Zekk caught sight of a window and quickly looked to the side first. "You've obviously managed to soundproof this room." But then he made himself look forward.

"This was the first one," said the man who _had_ to be Traest to be this blasé. The blue-haired man walked up to the observer's glass. "The patients were distracting our lab techs."

The room itself was a mess of desks and datapads, though some effort had been made to keep a table of vials neatly organized. Large cages were pushed up against the right wall. Straight ahead of Zekk, there was a long observation window showing into another room, this one full of beds, various sentients, and restraints on each of the "patients." Zekk's heart stuttered to a dull skipping rate, and Traest's stare pressed down on him, waiting.

"Well," Zekk said, as little like a croak as he could, "the quiet is something, anyway." He tore his eyes away from one of the beds when he noticed a lab coat stepping into the other room. Zekk steeled his jaw. "It doesn't mess with their observations? You'd better hope your scientists know what they're doing."

Traest glanced at the window; there was a flicker of something—perhaps disgust—in his expression, but it quickly dissolved. "They're paid very well."

Zekk cleared his throat. "The crates?"

Traest refocused on him. "Bring them up to the cages. Ganti said some of his pets were dead, but I don't know which—you can just leave them next to the other lizards."

Zekk dutifully pushed the trolley over, but looked into the cages as he did so. Something rather larger than the average lizard stared back at him, black eyes and dark yellow skin reflecting light; one hissed at him. He imagined the shutter of a holo camera saving the image. He hoped Jaina was getting new information out of this.

When he had finished, Zekk looked up to see Traest staring at him. "That everything?" Zekk asked. Again, he felt the barest amount of recognition; he wondered if it was real.

"Yeah," Traest said after a pause. He grinned suddenly, wildly. "I'm Traest, by the way," he said, confirming Zekk's suspicions.

"Rax Perl."

"Really?" Traest said. "It doesn't fit you at all."

Zekk held Traest's stare, but his every instinct primed for a fight.

Traest laughed suddenly, and shook his head. "I'm just trying to place you," he said. "You're Coruscant—lower levels, aren't you? I grew up there; you look familiar."

Zekk shrugged, making himself relax as much as possible. It was unnerving—_Traest_ was unnerving—because Zekk couldn't read Traest clearly. "Lots of people on Coruscant," he reminded the other man, and realized that he was completely easy in a way that he shouldn't have been able to force. His hands felt awkward crossed over his chest; he tucked one into his pant pocket, but removed it when he thought he felt a wire.

"Yeah, I guess." Traest finally moved, stepping over to one of the tables—this one covered in barely organized data sheets and pads—and started flicking through the mess.

Over Traest's shoulder, Zekk saw one of the "patients" lunge suddenly at a scientist, only to crumple back to her cot without coming even close to her target. Her restraints looked painful; Zekk imagined the feel of them cutting into his own skin; they reminded him of Jaina's raw wrists after Quatroc. _I have plenty of motivation to find Traest_, Jaina had said. He wondered if she knew someone who had been abducted, but didn't think that was it. Jaina cared about the people and her mission, but if she had someone in one of these labs— No, that wasn't it at all. He could remember when Kyp had gotten hurt during the Cruxx mission, but Jaina was focused now, not desperate as she had been.

"So what are you doing off-world?" Traest asked. He sounded absent. Zekk knew people like Joolu and Traest, and he _still_ almost believed the man.

"I just—" he said. "Needed to keep moving."

Traest smiled, quicksilver. Somehow, it made Zekk think of another—much more familiar, sometimes just as reckless—grin. "Ah," the blue-haired man said knowingly. "A girl."

Zekk scratched at the back of his neck. Kyp Durron and a room of Jedi were going to hear this, he thought. There might even be running commentary and bets. He felt slightly sick, but Jaina might be listening too, which made him a little defiant. It wasn't as if Kyp Durron could think any _less_ of him at this point. It helped that Zekk was talking to a man entrenched in the slave market; the comparison ought to do wonders. "Sort of a girl, yeah," he hedged, not very well.

Traest's grin twisted. "They'll do that. Bloody load of trouble, aren't they?"

Zekk had been about to say something, but lost his words at Traest's expression. Oh, what the hell, he thought. "You, too, huh?"

Traest finally compiled three data sheets, and one datapad. He stuck them in a leather casing. "More or less. Some girls—they've just gotta have everything, or you never hear the end of it. You wouldn't believe the lot I've had to work with. Which, speaking of work, I should get back to it."

_Work_. Right. And girl problems.

Traest looked across the table, and grabbed two vials of blood. He pushed them rather impatiently into the case, and zipped it shut before handing it to Zekk. "One of Joolu's men will be waiting for this where they dropped you off. They'll lead you back to Mos Eisley, and you can go on your way. Stay in town, though." Traest paused. "We might have more work for you."

Or blaster bolts for his back, Zekk thought.

Traest pulled out a cheque. "The name's blank," he said. "In case yours doesn't work at a bank. I never forget a face; I have seen you somewhere before."

Zekk stared back at him. Where, though, he wondered. "Maybe," he said.

Traest looked disconcerted, but finally laughed. "Whatever, man. You remember your way out?"

Zekk nodded quickly.

"Good. If you wander, you'll never find your way out. The doors are on timers, not to mention this place is a bloody maze."

Right. Message received. Zekk wondered if anyone was actually stupid enough to pull that sort of thing on their first job. "I'll see myself out, then."

Traest sprawled in a chair that had never meant to be outside a lab; it forgot its boundaries unnaturally well, as Zekk suspected most things did for Traest. "Your background check will be done soon." He was grinning as if everything was a joke. "Last chance to let me know of any discrepancies."

Taking a chance, Zekk gave Traest a condescending look. "Does anyone actually give their real name while working with you?"

"Fair enough." Traest looked genuinely amused. "I'll figure it out eventually."

Zekk rolled his eyes. "I'll be sure to lose some sleep over that. Right after tabloid predictions of the apocalypse." Zekk strode out of the room, case under his arm, without waiting for a reply. He paused once the door had shut, felt the contacts begin to scritch against his eyes, and then continued out of the building.


	6. Chapter 6

Zekk was back on the _Hawk_ less than two hours after he had left the underground lab. The contacts were dissolving—or at least leaking out of his eyes in blue goop, with a more-than-faint burn and a great deal of irritation. He spent fifteen minutes alternately rubbing (or jabbing) his eyes, and trying to make himself a glass of brandy.

"You look ridiculous," Jaina's voice informed him.

The dark-haired man wiped at his eyes, and blinked up at the spindly staircase that descended from his ceiling hatch. The Jedi's petite form was little more than a blur to him, when he managed to focus on her. Right, he thought. Of course Jaina had found him now, against all probability and despite every rule of unembarrassing courtship. Of _course_. "How did you get in here?" he asked. Because he knew Jaina, and she had probably been watching him for at least a few minutes, he gave up and jabbed at his eyes again.

"Oh, honestly," she said. "You'll lose an eye like that."

"It—itches," he said. Even if he'd love to get Kyp into trouble, Zekk's ego was not quite prepared to say that it really sort of burned and that her best friend was an overprotective kriffer with a planet in his shoulder.

He heard Jaina tsk and skip a few steps to land on the floor with a light thud. "Well, why did you even leave them in so long? You could have at least rinsed them a bit. Here." Warm fingers tilted Zekk's head down, presumably so Jaina could see him.

"'Rinsed them'?" he echoed.

"To prolong the life of them?" she tried, dropping her hands from his jaw. "And ease the removal, if you ever got around to it. Where's your sink…ah. Cups in the little cupboard above?"

He could hear her rummaging, so he took the question as rhetorical. "It must have slipped Kyp's mind."

The rummaging paused before Jaina said, "_Did_ it?"

Zekk could almost _see_ the other man getting clobbered. He forgot about the contacts for a moment, savouring the image.

The pipes whispered, and the tap spluttered some water. "Sit down on the bed, okay?"

"Why, are you too short?"

"I could just let those things leak out on their own," she threatened in a singsong voice.

He struggled to keep from rubbing his eyes some more. "This is _your_ friend's fault," he said, but sat on the bed.

The bed dipped slightly. One of Jaina's knees sank next to his right thigh, and rested there. "Hold this," she said, giving him a cup of water. "Like that, and lean back a bit. Your shirt's going to get wet," she warned him, "but it'll be quicker if I do it."

Zekk sent up a quick prayer that Jaina was currently more pissed off at Kyp than she was at him. "Yeah. How _did_ you get in here?"

Her hand cupped at his cheek, her thumb on his jaw. The cup in his hand dipped slightly as her other hand took some water. "Tip your head back a little more." Her hand adjusted on his face, and the lukewarm water slid along his left eye. "I broke in," she said blithely as he blinked quickly. "You really should get your captain to find better security. _Jacen_ could pick that lock."

Zekk spluttered. "You _didn't_."

She snickered at him; he could almost see her grin through the water and contacts. "Of course not." Her fingers swept gently at some gunk near his left eye, then more firmly by his right eye. "I told Raven I was a friend of yours. And then she recognized me—she's quicker than you, anyway. She assured me," Jaina's voice was very grave, "that the _Hawk_ is carrying only legal goods, and you would guarantee it personally. Then she offered me something to drink, and showed me here. Also, she insists you give me a tour if I ask. Smugglers are always so helpful when they see a Jedi."

More water splashed into his right eye, then a little more into the left. Jaina released his jaw, and rubbed around both of his eyes with her thumbs. When he blinked, she was a much more discernible blob of Jaina-ness. She was also closer than he had thought; he was careful not to look too closely. "We don't have anything illegal on board," he dutifully informed her.

She took the glass from his hand, and flicked some water at his face for no purpose at all except to annoy him. "I know," she said, grinning in amusement. "You're between jobs right now. Hence the free time you have to meddle in _my_ work." She put a hand on his shoulder, pushing so that she could ease back and stand by the bed. "Can you see well enough to wash your own eyes out now? I think I got the worst of it—you just have to clear out the last bit, and remove the actual contacts."

He stretched out a hand for caution's sake, then dropped it quickly when he considered that Jaina could _see_ him; he walked to the small sink by memory and slightly less blurred vision. He fumbled with the ancient tap, let the water run over his hands. He washed out his eyes quickly before removing the troublesome contacts. "Do you—"

"Just toss them. They transmitted at the time; it didn't store anything. The others will already have the information to review."

When he turned around, Jaina had one knee resting on his bed—perhaps for support, he thought. Between the bruises and dark make-up, she looked smudged and shadowed. He glanced at his chrono; it was already 2100 hours, but that was probably the earliest she had left the Dustbowl in a while. When he glanced up again her jaw shifted, and she said, "Did you—"

"You can sit down, if you'd like," he suggested. "You look—"

"I'm fine." But she sat down on his bunk, hands on either side of her.

Zekk leaned against his sink, crossing his arms over his chest and ignoring the dampness trickling under his shirt. The burn in his eyes was hardly even an itch now, probably due more to the rubbing he had done than to the contacts' dissolution. "How long would it have taken those things to dissolve on their own?"

Jaina's shoulders jutted up as she sank a little into the cot. She ducked her head, and he suspected that she was trying to hide her grin. He _hoped_ she was planning revenge, not just enjoying Kyp's prank. "They would have come out on their own," she said. She bit her lip. "Eventually."

"He's very mature, this friend of yours."

Jaina rolled her eyes, but her frame tightened. "He's not exactly the propaganda image of a Jedi Master. But—he _says_ it's to lighten the mood, keep everyone's nerves down."

Clearly, her own nerves had some resistance to Kyp's pranks, but Zekk spared a thought for how he must have looked, poking at his own eyes to push out blue gunk. He decided not to ask why she had left the Dustbowl early. "Joolu had me cart some lizard things out into the desert—Traest has an underground lab set up there."

Jaina's eyes flickered at his name-dropping, but otherwise stayed fixed on Zekk's face. "Could you get back there?" she asked.

Zekk grimaced. "No, Joolu's men blindfolded me, took me out—about thirty minutes into the desert. And…it all looks the same to me," he admitted.

"It's fine," she said, sounding neither surprised nor disappointed. "We have other ways. You saw the—the lab?"

"One of them." Zekk's right eye itched, and he rubbed it in spite of himself. "Traest made sure to get a good look at my expression when I first saw them."

"Stop rubbing, you'll just make it worse," Jaina scolded him. Then: "You saw Traest?"

"About our age. Blue hair. He could probably charm Tuskens into buying more sand." Zekk shrugged. "He introduced himself as Traest."

"That sounds like him." Jaina tilted her head. "What's wrong?"

"He was—"

"Troubling," Jaina suggested.

"Yes, but I was going to say familiar." Zekk hesitated, but she would find out soon enough. "He said he recognized me."

"_Recognized_ you?" Jaina repeated.

"Probably from—"

"You need to get out of here."

"From Coruscant," Zekk insisted. "It makes sense. You see a lot of faces in the lower levels."

Jaina stared at him; he could see her throat working around a swallow, or perhaps it was a more vehement protest. "Did you recognize him?"

"I think so. Yes."

"From Coruscant?" Once they had begun, the questions tumbled out quickly. "Are you _sure_ you only recognize him from Coruscant? There isn't _anywhere_ else, or any special reason?"

"Where else would I have seen him?" Zekk shook his head. "For that matter, how bad could it be? I wasn't anyone important—I just scavenged, and tended bar. I mean, I never belonged to a gang, but I avoided the police as much as anyone as a kid."

"He could figure out your real name."

"I doubt I made much of an impression on anyone, let alone someone like Traest."

Jaina's fingers flexed around the edge of the bed, and she took a deep breath. "Joolu already finished his background check on you. Did Traest say anything about it?"

"He said he was finishing mine," Zekk admitted reluctantly. She would find out eventually.

Jaina unclipped her com-link from the shoulder strap of her dress, and stared at the small device. "I need to—"

"Do you want something to eat?" he asked. "We should have something around here that's edible."

She looked up at him. "Sure, that'd be—yeah. Do you have any caf?"

He eyed her sceptically, noting the dark lines under her eyes, and the tension running through her small frame. "When was the last time you slept?"

"What are you, my took-off friend, or my mother?" she snapped, which was answer enough. "Besides, I can't sleep for hours yet."

"Fine, we might have some." Decaf, possibly. He wondered if she'd notice.

"I'm going to call Kyp, see if we can't cover any of your tracks."

Zekk nodded, and pointed at the stairs. "I'll be just a few minutes." He turned to leave.

"Zekk."

He looked back, his hand on the rail. "Yeah?"

"You're okay, right? I mean—the labs, and Traest…"

He saw, again, all those beds and beings, the scientist leaning over each with a datapad. He could have killed Traest in that room (maybe), but then had been caught almost reminiscing with the man as if it was the ten-year Coruscant reunion.

Zekk shrugged, wondering if Jaina was reading him—he really needed to find out what, exactly, Jedi could do. Besides this sort of mission for weeks at a time, on only caf and determination. "Are you?"

She smirked. "I'm sure the tabloids will say no, but I've been dealing with these things for years. I'll be fine."

He nodded, as convinced by her ease as she probably was by his, and climbed up the stairs and out of the hatch.

_**x-x-x**_

Raven was no where to be reassured about the Jedi Knight on board, so Zekk resolved to deal with his captain later. Zekk was the only crewmember to regularly make his own food, the others preferring to grab pre-made meals whenever possible. Despite this (or because of it—they had dipped into Zekk's food before), his own share of the cooking unit was nearly as bare as the others'. Still, he managed to assemble a sorry looking sandwich, and even a small bowl of fruit. In the meanwhile, the caf machine worked at something with less caffeine than Jaina had probably seen in a while.

Carrying the food through the hatch and down the stairs was interesting, but he told himself that space life wasn't softening his balance.

Jaina was talking softly into her com-link, but finished the conversation when she saw him. "They're just reviewing your intel now," she told him, clipping the small com-link back onto her dress' neckline. "I'm always useless with these things."

"Do you…need to get back?" he asked.

She shrugged, and folded her arms across her chest. She looked awkward now where she hadn't before. "I'm already here," she pointed out. "If he can't see me, Joolu isn't the type to search me out."

He grinned at her. "I found some food."

Predictably, Jaina reached for the mug of caf first. She looked thin, not just because she was tired. "Thanks." She swallowed half of it, gave both the mug and Zekk an odd look, then carefully placed it on the top of his dresser. "How're your eyes?" she asked.

"Fine." Zekk put the plate on his desk, but held out the bowl. "Bali?"

She took one of the deep purple fruits with a faint smile. "Kyp doesn't say sorry."

Zekk rolled his eyes. "I'm not surprised."

"He is getting someone on your record, though, and he'll see what he can find out about Traest's reaction." She shifted uncomfortably, adjusted the hem of her very short dress, and bit into the fruit. When the skin broke, she swallowed quickly, then licked at a bit of juice on the corner of her lips. Her wrist turned, and she dropped her hand and the fruit to hang by her side.

"Right. Oh, that holo—" Zekk noticed the _City Planet_ on his desk. "I've got a copy here."

She blinked before scowling. "Oh, for—give it here," Jaina growled, snatching the datasheets from his hand. She put the bali bite-side up on the sandwich plate, and wiped her fingers on the hem of her dress. "Fine, we'll settle this, shall we? 'Solo Princess Braves the Knot, C2.' I'm surprised it isn't a cover, scoop like this."

"You got a blurb," he pointed out.

Jaina rolled her eyes at him. "I saw." She set the page to flip, and waited as it loaded. "Hey, look: my 'ex,' Raynar, is making out with a Twi'lek girl who looks like his mother's PA. Oh."

She had seen the holo-image. Zekk waited, watching for embarrassment or something, but he was unprepared for how white and cold her face became. The triumph of proving her wrong felt bitter on his tongue. He ignored it and pried, "It is you, isn't it," because she would never say it on her own.

Her jaw clenched painfully. "Yes," she snapped. She continued to stare at the image for a long moment before abruptly shoving it back at him. "That's not Jag, though."

He glanced at the image, then quickly back at her. "It isn't?" Truthfully, he hadn't looked _very_ hard at the back of the man's head, and he had only seen Jag once in poor lighting.

"_Really_ not. I should sue them for—something," she snarled. "It's not even the right kriffing—" She waved a hand in the air, temper threatening her words. She finally pointed at the datasheets. "That was almost a kriffing _decade_ ago."

Trust Jaina to say the last thing she meant to in a fit of pique. Still, Zekk was too boggled by her words to feel any satisfaction. "What the kriff?"

She winced, a worrisome combination with her scowl. "It was—a long time ago." She tried to shift the conversation to anti-tabloid sentiment. "I can't believe they even had that, let alone held onto it. Kriffing—media carrion," she muttered, starting to look trapped.

"Jaina. You were wearing an engagement ring. We are not leaving it at that."

"Hells yes, we are." Jaina snorted and headed toward the stairs. "I am _not_ this hungry. I'll—"

"You will not." Zekk looked at the data sheet and the image. She did look younger, but—he had only thought it was because she looked so happy, like during Coruscant's snowstorm. And there was the _ring_. "You are staying right here and explaining this." He paused suddenly, eyes going wide as he began to piece together all the clues. When he spoke, he tried to be gentler: "Traest killed him, didn't he?"

Jaina paused on the third stair up to stare at him, her expression blank. "What?"

"Your—fiancé." There must have been a fiancé, Zekk told himself, trying to get past the knot in his gut. Not just a boyfriend, not with the ring, a _fiancé_, but— "That's why you're so invested in this; Traest did something to him, and you lost him."

There was a long moment of silence, and then Jaina laughed at him. It was an ugly laugh—peculiar and sharp—and when he flinched, she clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle it. Her face had more colour in it now, but even when she dropped her hand to curl around her waist, he could still hear the bitterness.

"I'm—sorry," she said stiltedly. "A dead fiancé would be…very traumatizing. It isn't funny."

He frowned at her, and the way she was just _staring_ him. "Traest does have something to do with this." He was certain of it.

"Oh. Yes. It's just that—" She shrugged awkwardly, then seemed to come to a decision. "_Traest_ was the fiancé."


	7. Chapter 7

"Oh. Yes. It's just that—" She shrugged awkwardly, then seemed to come to a decision. "_Traest_ was the fiancé."

To his own horror, Zekk heard himself say, "You're kidding me."

Jaina's expression turned into a sneer before he could try to fix his reaction. "What, doesn't it sound like _exactly_ the kind of mess I'd let my love life turn into?"

Zekk gawped at her for a long moment. "You…were engaged to Traest." He stumbled to his bed and sat down. "How did you two even meet? I mean, how—how old were you?"

Jaina faced him as if ready for a fight, but her shoulders curled inward; he could make her tell him. "I don't want to talk about this. It's the past." He could almost hear the number of times she had said that before.

"Too kriffing bad. What happened?"

Finally, she took a seat on the stairs. She was scowling, but had clearly given up on ignoring the subject. "I met Traest when I was nine years old," she started, more slowly than he had expected. "I was—I'm not sure how to explain. My life was easier than yours in a lot of ways, but…it was harder in others. I grew up surrounded by the…most amazing people. My family, but their friends, too—people who are Rebellion and Republic heroes. But it was never really safe, with all the enemies, bounty hunters, and assassins, so our parents kept us as safe as they could. It could be very isolating. Stifling, even, sometimes."

She looked up and seemed to notice something in Zekk's expression. She gave a half-grin. "It wasn't that bad. It's just—my brothers and I were protected as much as possible—up until we got kidnapped, which happened more than occasionally. But you know me," she shrugged. "I got restless."

"At nine."

"Zekk, my brothers and I were thwarting kidnappers and Dark Jedi practically from the womb. We grew up surrounded by the children of _other_ heroes; getting into trouble was practically a competition. Exploring Coruscant's undercity was an adventure only because my mother had forbidden it, and no one knew where I was."

"Okay, so you hit your rebellious streak early."

She rolled her eyes. "I liked digging though the old parts stores. One day, I ran into Traest on my way back." She grinned, oddly. "He tried to snatch my cred card, but I caught him. It was…a game. He was nothing like anyone I knew, really. He didn't worry about Imperials or Dark Jedi. He was just this scamp who went through the day doing whatever he wanted—or that's how he explained it, anyway."

"Did he know who you were?" Zekk asked, remembering how slowly he had found out.

"Immediately. I think that's why he did it—to see what the princess would do. He was…he was like me, sort of." Jaina smiled, too softly for her expression to really be classed as wry. "Wild, scruffy—my dad showed me how to pick most locks, but Traest showed me how to get into all the others and then get away without anyone seeing."

When she went quiet for several minutes, Zekk's mouth twisted. "What happened?"

What had softened in Jaina changed into a manner more brisk. "We weren't really close at the time, but we were friends. Then when I was thirteen, I went to the Jedi Academy to start my training. When I came back on a break, Traest was missing. He didn't have anyone, not even a leader, let alone someone like Peckhum. He kept himself alive." Jaina swallowed. "I tried looking for him, but there were no leads—I couldn't find any of his friends, and he didn't leave a message. And anyway, he had always said that one day he'd leave and just never come back."

She looked angry—at herself, probably, or at Traest, and certainly at Zekk for making her talk about it. "But he did come back," Zekk prodded.

The line of her jaw tightened. "When I was seventeen. Almost eighteen. We ran into each other—maybe by accident, I've never really known." She caught herself. "He was older, of course, but there was…something different about him. He was wilder than ever and—you've met him," she said.

It occurred to him, suddenly, that she was asking him to understand. Zekk loosened his fists and tried to look less than completely furious. "He was very charismatic. Charming, almost." The green-eyed man hesitated. "I've met people like him before, but—I almost believed him sometimes, even when the lab was right in front of me."

"And he wasn't even like he is now," Jaina insisted. "I don't think. He's different now. Committed." There was no forgiveness in her voice.

Zekk had to fist his hands back together. "Did you love him?"

It seemed to break the tension, if only to set it in a different way. Jaina rolled her eyes, rueful. "I was seventeen. What did I even know about being in love?"

That, he thought, sounded an awful lot like _yes_.

"Anyway, it wasn't exactly like that. He brought out the worst in me, encouraged all my little sparks of rebellion." She sighed. "Look, I was seventeen, okay? It wasn't so much that everyone expected me to save the galaxy as it was just a…a fact. You don't expect Coruscant to have a lot of people and really bad traffic, it just does. And mostly I was okay, didn't let it get to me, but when I was with Traest—it was like being someone else. And being with someone like Traest was…very freeing." Her voice soured. "Freefalling, really."

Zekk finally stood, uncomfortable but realizing that Jaina would tear his head off at one wrong move. He walked to his desk, ignored the article that was still lying there, and leaned against it. "What did he say about being gone?"

Jaina shrugged, as if he didn't already know that Traest had come back as an enemy. "He said he'd been travelling, which—he had been off-world, that was true. But I didn't press the way I should have." This time, Jaina's anger was clearly directed inward. "I thought—and even when he wasn't leading me through very un-Solo-Skywalker-like behaviour, I was an _idiot_ over him in so many ways. I thought that maybe he'd gotten into trouble with a gang, or even been caught by the police. But I never made him tell me anything he didn't want to—not after the first couple denials. I didn't ask any of the questions I should have."

So she had loved him, Zekk thought. It explained a number of things, not least her reaction to any questions about Cruxx when she and Zekk had first met. "But really…"

"He'd been recruited. He had been training—working—for almost four years by the time I next saw him. I don't know if he came back to find me, or if he just took the opportunity while he had it, but—"

Zekk gave her several minutes, but she clearly meant to leave it at that. "Jaina," he said. "The ring."

She was looking at her knees; the shadows made it difficult for him to see her face, but he knew she was tense. "Well, I figured it out before stumbling down the aisle, obviously. I wasn't quite _that_ stupid. And I probably would have done a lot of things for him, but once I had proof…."

"But what did he—"

"Look, I'm trying to answer, okay, but I don't _talk_ about this. I'm not divorced, I don't have an annulled marriage, I only wore the ring for a few days, and it was years ago. I'm not that person anymore. And—" She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm too sober to talk about the details of what Brakiss had Traest do."

Zekk was about to point out that she obviously _wasn't_ trying to give him answers, but then she dropped Brakiss' name and the argument died in his throat.

Jaina's head shot up to study him, her eyes catching the light. She scowled. "What?" But she stood, and descended the last few stairs, slowly becoming concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Traest was—he's working for Brakiss?"

Jaina blinked, but her face smoothed out of confusion into something more watchful than she usually let people see. "Brakiss kidnapped and recruited street kids over a decade ago," she said. She sounded almost as if she knew that this was not new to Zekk. "He wanted to bring down the Jedi Order, revive the Empire—he even had an Imperial Guard pretending to be the Emperor. He started with street kids who—who wouldn't be missed by parents or authorities." She paused, looking pained. "And you were one of them, weren't you?"

Zekk's hands tightened around the edge of his desk. "Human," he said. "Blond hair, blue eyes, flair for the dramatics. I was sixteen."

"Yeah. He even had this stupid cape he liked to wear, horribly impractical."

"Yeah." Zekk's head dropped, his chin sinking into his chest. He could practically feel Jaina trying to restrain her questions. "I thought he was just some nut, or maybe even a slaver. I escaped," he told her, looking up quickly. "I never worked for him."

Jaina tilted her head; he couldn't quite decipher her expression, although he was relieved to notice the absence of suspicion. At least Traest hadn't broken her heart _that_ badly. "You weren't one of his regular soldiers, were you." She sounded—bizarrely, he thought—almost smug.

"What are you talking about?" He already knew that Jaina was right, somehow—he just didn't know _how_ she knew. "He spouted something about—destiny, or something as stupid, but otherwise he just kept me locked in a room."

She frowned, looking concerned; she took another step closer to him. "Did he hurt you?"

He raised an eyebrow; there was enough messiness without worrying about his brief captivity a decade ago.

Her cheeks flushed, and her eyes darted away for a moment as she cleared her throat. "Brakiss is a Dark Jedi. He recruited as many 'soldiers' as he could, but he wanted other Force sensitives to train as a sort of superior guard. I guess—I think you were supposed to be part of the latter group." She looked faintly abashed.

There was an obvious flaw in her reasoning. "I'm not Force sensitive."

Jaina made a face and looked considering again.

"I'm _not_," he insisted. "And anyway, wouldn't you have been able to tell?"

"Well, it's not like—you meet someone, and you suddenly know they're Force sensitive. Besides, I wasn't looking for it."

"Because I'm not the type of person who would be a Jedi."

She looked impatient, but kept from snapping at him. "When I was teaching you how to fly, you learned very quickly. I'd be about to point something out, and then you'd remember."

"I'm a quick study. And Peckhum..."

Jaina was not deterred by his interruption. "When it snowed, your hands weren't nearly as cold as they should have been."

"Street kid," he reminded her. "I'm tougher than I look."

"The undercity is hot at the best of times," Jaina contradicted him. "You should have been as useless as Beryl. And you're always finding things, finding _out_ things."

"You don't sound very surprised," he remarked flatly.

"I…don't think I am." She rubbed the back of her neck. "I wondered once or twice, sort of. There were little things, I didn't sit down and add them up, but..." She straightened. "Brakiss was looking for something—maybe someone—that he never quite pinned. Maybe you. The Nightsisters had a protégé, Vilas, who was supported to help lead, but—he wasn't Brakiss' choice, and Tamith Kai and Brakiss fought. The Shadow Academy divided up its loyalty—some of them stayed with Brakiss, and the rest with the Nightsisters. Brakiss couldn't take on the Jedi as he was—the Nightsisters tried, but they didn't do much better than Brakiss would have. Brakiss, for his part, became involved in more strategic power struggles. Organized crime, human trafficking, sentient experimentation." She smiled oddly; there wasn't much humour in it. "Do you believe me?"

"About Brakiss? Of course."

"I meant about you. And Brakiss."

"It's a bit much to swallow," he hedged.

"Especially with the Traest holovid reveal?" she suggested, smirking a little.

"I'm not exactly… I'm not Jedi material."

Something in her expression softened—something he hadn't even realized that she had been holding onto all this time, or which he had only blamed on the mission. "Zekk," she said. "Don't be such an idiot. It's—you don't have to do anything with it if you don't want to. But—for what it's worth. I think you could be a great Jedi." She blushed and looked at the floor. "Or—anything else you wanted to be." Her eyes darted up at the last moment, and her lips curled. "That's kind of the point."

He stared at her, caught by the sincerity she was offering. Her smile could almost have been shy, if Jaina Solo had _ever_ been shy a day in her life. It made very clear, in a way that over a year at the Flash and months of distance had not, what Peckhum and Mique had seen, and what Jaina had slowly been risking to put forward. He wondered what his own expression was telling her; if perhaps her anger was as much for his leaving as for the fact that he had kept safe his own intentions while she had been showing her hand. "Jaina—"

Her expression slid into awkwardness, and her jaw twisted a little. The honesty became self-deprecation—a seagueway for something more brisk. "Right. If we're finished the massive amounts of melodrama, I should be getting back to the others. I shouldn't even really have—"

"I'm glad you did," he interjected, still off balance.

"I was…" She rolled her eyes, shrugged it off. "I wanted to make sure everything went okay. You know. On your first mission."

She refrained from glaring at him for once—he wondered if she would try to recruit him now that she thought he was Force sensitive. Not, he reminded himself, that he actually _was_. He summoned a smile for her, though he expected no sleep tonight with all the new thoughts in his head. "It takes a little more than villains' small talk to finish me off."

The corners of her lips turned up. "Just contacts, then?" she suggested. If Kyp had been trying to amuse Jaina with his prank, then he hadn't completely failed. "Your face is still kind of—" She waved at her own, now definitely grinning. "You might need to use soap."

Zekk reassured himself that he had _not_ just had a deeply personal conversation with Jaina while his face was smeared blue. Zekk was not that unlucky. There had to be a limit. He refrained from touching his face to check the colour, though; he'd only look like more of an idiot. "Right," he said. "Remember, Kyp was being immature during a recon mission. He deserves to get hit."

"You're both grown-ups," Jaina said, heading toward the stairs. "Settle it on your own. You really don't need to be intimidated by him; Kyp hasn't actually torn off anyone's head in years."

"Or he's just gotten better at hiding the bodies," Zekk muttered, then: "I am not intimidated by Kyp Durron."

"Then you can thump him on your own. The other girls and I could do with a men-are-stupid laugh." She was going to have a laugh all to herself as soon as she was off the _Hawk_, Zekk could tell. "But, okay, I really am going now. Oh," she said, pausing on the fourth step. She peered down at him. "We'll contact you tomorrow morning to debrief you properly. We're supposed to record everything for testimony. So maybe write down everything you remember? Your perceptions, things we couldn't catch on holo—or that you wouldn't trust just to tech, anyway. You never know when something will go wrong."

She climbed two more steps, then looked back again, less absent. "And—keep an eye out. The others are working on making sure you don't have any trouble, but…"

"I don't have any intention of dying now," he assured her.

"Yeah, okay. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Here?" he checked.

She rolled her eyes. "Really bad idea. Go out for a walk. Spend some of your paycheque."

"_No_, thank you."

"Not _Traest_'s," she told him. "Just—get breakfast, or something, preferably without a tail. We'll find you."

"So without non-Jedi tails, you mean."

Jaina grinned. "I really should tell you what I can do with the Force. Finding you _won't_ be a problem."


	8. Chapter 8

"I think I should give you a deadline, boy," Peckhum mused. "Three more days should be plenty of time to sweep your girl off her feet."

Zekk had been trying to give Peckhum a carefully edited account of the mission, which had somehow become his good news for the day, so his expression darkened before he could control it properly. "I don't think Jaina is very…amenable…to being swept off her feet right now."

"Nonsense. Probably everyone thinks that and nobody's tried. You'd be surprised, the people who get swept off their feet."

"Yes," Zekk muttered, "but that's the _problem_."

_**x-x-x**_

Zekk didn't bother trying to sleep that night. If he wasn't figuring through how Traest fit into Jaina and her actions (or just how much she would kill him if she knew what he was thinking), then memories and new thoughts about Brakiss swarmed him. When his mind turned back to the events of the past day, however, Zekk decided to find some reinforcements.

When he poked his head into the kitchen, it was as empty as he should have expected. The cooling unit was similarly sparse, as was his jar of tea leaves, so he set about making an uncharacteristically large mug of caf. He hadn't pulled an all-nighter in a while; even with his racing thoughts to keep him awake, he would need the caffeine to keep him alert.

He was about to transfer the liquid from the caf pot to his mug, but instead he turned to look behind him. "That decaf?" Raven asked from the doorway.

Fine, then, he thought—he would be up all night anyway. "It's really anti-decaf," he told the captain. "Possibly also more pure caffeine, less savoury flavour." He made a face at the thought, and mentally underlined _purchase more TEA_ on his to-do list.

Raven raised one eyebrow perilously high. "Planning a long night, are you?"

He blinked at her, desperately hoping he had read that wrong even as his cheeks flushed. "Jaina left me with some thinking to do," he said carefully, trying not to overemphasize _left_. At the time of his interview, it hadn't seemed important to find out Raven's view on tabloids, let alone Jedi, but he should have remembered how poorly carelessness suited him.

Raven nodded, still watching him carefully. "I didn't dream that, then—a Jedi did come on board my ship?"

Zekk sighed. "Yes, she did." He swallowed some of his drink, wincing at the strength of its flavour.

"And not just any Jedi, but one of the Solos. Kriff. She's a friend of yours?"

Zekk leaned against the counter, cupping the mug in his hands as he let the warmth try to soothe his nerves. "When she's not very furious with me. We ran into each other a few nights ago."

Raven's eyes sparked with ready intelligence; it was one of the things he most respected about her. "She here 'bout those disappearances?"

Zekk hadn't even thought about these kinds of complications—if Raven would talk where she shouldn't, if she'd sell something out for money or because she felt she had to, even how a smuggler would react when a Jedi boarded her ship. Not until those contacts had washed out, anyway, not to mention hearing about the Traest disaster. Zekk put his mug on the counter, and crossed his arms over his chest. He reminded himself that Raven was intelligent, thought Scooti's magazines were trash, and was really a pretty good person who just happened not to concern herself with the fine print of trade law.

Still— "No, she's just around, I think for a vacation. The Jedi don't have jurisdiction here, as far as I'm aware."

Raven smiled, her hands on her hips. "Of course, you'd say the same even if she was up to her neck in taking down the kidnappers."

_Careful_, Zekk reminded himself. For the sake of a reference, if not his job. "I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to talk about any of her missions," Zekk said. "Even the bare minimum that she tells me. When she feels like it."

"Do you talk to her about your work?" Raven prodded.

Zekk scowled at her. "She knows I'm the _Hawk_'s co-pilot," he snapped. "Unless that's changed."

The dark-haired woman met his gaze levelly. "This is my kriffing ship, my livelihood, I've more'n a right to ask 'bout this."

Zekk thought about admitting that he and Jaina hadn't been speaking for months at his own decision, but it would be a shallow cover. An obsolete one, too, if he played things right. "Jaina probably knows that you smuggle on occasion, but I knew that even before I applied for this job, and I didn't tell her. Anyway, Jaina's father was a smuggler, and she's—" Zekk felt uncomfortable giving personal information about Jaina, but decided it would be obvious to anyone who spent time with her. "She's always been closest to her father."

Raven was quiet for a moment. "We ain't got anything on board now."

Zekk thought of Jaina's amusement, but picked up his mug again and nodded. "I took this job with the understanding that the work is mostly on the up-and-up," he told Raven. "I won't stand for sentient trafficking, or anything that— I have my own morals, independent of my friendship with Jaina. I'm not going to tattle more just because I know a Jedi."

"She doesn't come on board if we have any cargo," Raven warned.

"I don't think Jedi really enforce those kinds of laws, Raven…"

"And don't think this is over, either. I don't like this."

Zekk subsided, his jaw tight. "Yes, captain."

Raven groaned. "I'm too sober for Jedi on board. She heard the no-current-cargo bit, right?"

"Yes, she mentioned that you offered her a tour."

"And she didn't think anything was odd, yeah?"

Zekk nodded, keeping a straight face. "She didn't suspect a thing."

"Great." Raven speared her fingers through some of her dark hair, and blew out a heavy sigh. "You gonna be up all night?"

"What gave it away?" Zekk asked, gesturing with his mug.

Raven pulled a deck of cards out of her jacket pocket. "Play a few games?"

_What else are you going to do?_ he could imagine Jaina saying. He wondered if Raven was drunk enough (or on her way to being so) to put money on the table. Zekk shrugged as casually as he could. "Beats staring at the ceiling."

_**x-x-x**_

Zekk could have minded his own business, but he didn't expect Jaina to ever willingly tell him the full truth, and he wasn't sure how well she would take his poking at her gaping vulnerability. He wanted the truth, but not at the expense of Jaina refusing to speak to him ever again. He was barely into a mild hangover at sith-hundred-hours in the morning, though, and it took him some time to realize what, exactly, he was seeing. Or, more accurately, what he was _not_ seeing.

_Solo AND engagement_ went through the holo net database before he could remember how famous and adjective-like Jaina's last name was. He hadn't even winced when thousands of results—many, remarkably, for the right family if the wrong generation—appeared on his datapad.

He clicked the results window closed before it could overload his datapad's memory, and then gathered his dully-aching brain cells. '_Jaina Solo_,' he typed, _AND engagement_. According to the Coruscant news articles database, she was engaged to: Jag Fel, Raynar Thul, Prince Isolder of Hapes (who Zekk had thought was already married, and to no less than a warrior queen who could break him in half), Kyp Durron, a nobody who insisted that he and Jaina had fallen in love on the holo net, enough strangers to make Zekk's eyes glaze, and Kyp Durron (post-first marriage's annulment). The database results page had _1-2-3-4-5…156_ pages in total while filtered.

Frankly uncomfortable at the thought of _'Jaina Solo' AND boyfriend_, Zekk hesitated. _Traest_, he typed, _AND 'Jaina Solo' AND engagement_, which gave him results very similar to his second search.

By the time he had filtered it to _'Jaina Solo' AND Traest AND 'engagement' AND 'age 18' AND (betrayal OR Brakiss) AND family_, Zekk was feeling completely sober.

_**x-x-x**_

A dozen hours, sixty-seven credits (and hopefully forgiveness) won, four mugs of caf, and several glasses of brandy later, Zekk stepped out of the _Hawk_ for breakfast. He wandered at first, trying to shake anyone who might be following him; he noticed neither evil henchmen nor Jedi, but kept walking anyway until the itch at the back of his neck had disappeared.

When he thought Jaina might actually be awake (or at least have remembered to pull herself away from work), Zekk ducked into the first café that looked capable of producing real food. He ordered a larger than normal amount of food, and sat facing the door. He looked down for just a moment to deal with his toast, and Jaina sat down across from him.

He raised an eyebrow at her; despite the fatigue bruises under her eyes (and another actual bruise on her left wrist), she looked smug for sneaking up on him. "You're late," he told her. He gestured to his nearly finished breakfast.

Her fingers drummed against the wood table, proof of what her overly bright eyes suggested. "I got held up."

He glanced at her bruised wrist and wired fingers. "Did you sleep at all?"

She snorted, pointedly ignored him as if sleep were for mere mortals and not Solos, and not-so-stealthily stole a drink from his mug. "Ugh." She made a face, and replaced the mug by his plate. "That's tea, isn't it. Sneaky and malicious tea disguised as _caf_. I told you you'd fit in with the Jedi."

"Teach you to steal any mug of caf that hasn't been bolted down." He pushed a small plate to her side of the table. "I got you a muffin. The food isn't bad; you should order something."

"Don't mother me," she said, glancing at her chrono. "Kriff, I _am_ late. We still have to—" She scanned the café first. "We'll have to go straight to the warehouse. C'mon." She took a quick bite from the muffin, and started to put it back as she stood. At his look, she rolled her eyes and kept it. "I _am_ eating," she insisted.

"Caf—even the gallons you've consumed—doesn't count as 'eating.'" He pulled aside the door curtain of the diner, grinning as she rolled her eyes.

"Just because you don't see me with food doesn't mean that I'm not. I made sure to eat that first night, in the diner, didn't I? And anyway, they have nutri-boosters for the rest of the time."

"Stars, you _are_ kidding me. Nutri-boosters?"

"Drama queen." She tugged at his sleeve—almost absently, or like a habit—and pointed down an alley. "My bike's this way."

"Finish your muffin." Zekk searched his coat pockets. "I have a nutribar somewhere around here."

"To think, I was worried about you getting hurt on this mission," Jaina said around a mouthful of muffin. She looked ridiculous, almost like a child with no manners. Zekk wondered how anyone could take her seriously on diplomatic missions or in the middle of a fight. "If I'd known what an overprotective mother hen you are, I would have assigned you to a couple jobs with Kyp." Nonetheless, she finished the muffin in a few bites, and even took the nutribar he gave her.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked after a pause.

She gave him an exasperated look, licking at some crumbs at the corner of her mouth. "Didn't we shelve questions? Or is that just to protect you, and you can interrogate me as much as you want?"

"How much do the others know?"

Jaina glared at him, and threw the muffin wrapper into a garbage can. "About Traest."

"He's part of your mission, so I assume they—"

"My team knows I've had run-ins with him before; Brakiss' sort generally try to get to my family at some point or another—no self-preservation instincts, you know. Everything else, you'd better keep to yourself. Not that there's any reason for you to talk about it." She seemed to think that was the end of it, and started to walk down the alley.

Zekk pulled her to a sharp stop. "They don't know _anything_?"

She shook her hand free, and put her hands on her hips. "Why should they? Fine, Kyp knows, but he's family." Her jaw tightened and her eyes darkened. "He was there." She saw his expression and became even more frustrated. "I don't _talk_ about this. It was a long time ago. Do you still tell everyone about your first real breakup?"

"Traest was just a little more serious than getting dumped for someone with better prospects."

"You don't get it. This stuff _happens_ in my family. We get bored if someone isn't trying to kill us. People are used to it—it's part of our job description."

He tried to picture Jaina at seventeen, grease-stained and grinning, a little more careless and much more reckless, and he shook his head. "It's still different. If it wasn't, you'd tell them everything and make jokes about it."

"I just—no one knows about it. Just my family, and maybe a handful of other people." She shrugged, clearly making an effort to restrain the emotional element. "People who actually saw it happen, who needed answers."

"You told me."

"You would never have let it go."

"No, you _told_ me. Everything."

She made a dismissive noise. "And what, we need to talk about that?"

"Considering how well it turned out last time, I thought we'd actually try talking about the important things this time."

"It was just—" She made a frustrated movement with her hands, then curled them into fists. Her eyes were on their surroundings. "It's part of who I was—am, whatever. I wanted you to understand," she finished more quietly.

"Jaina—"

"You have run so far over your question limit, Zekk, that the next one gets you a very hard punch before we start on everything we've been putting off, got it? You're the one who ran off, how about if we spill _your_ guts all over the sidewalk? We can pick them apart in public and see how much it can hurt."

He swallowed his questions—even the most obvious one: _how_ had she managed to cover this up at all, let alone completely? _Patience_, he reminded himself. And at this point, he probably should seriously consider flowers—or maybe a broken gadget, he amended. "Fine," he said after a moment.

Jaina tightened her ponytail, and adjusted her shirt's neckline. "The speedbike's this way." She pulled him into the alley.

He did a double take at the red vehicle, forgetting the tension that lingered between them. "Someone rented you a speedbike? In the city?"

Jaina's grin suggested a very different kind of guts spilling. "Aren't you glad we had that conversation first?" She tossed him a helmet. "Be glad my father's Han Solo."

"Oh, stars." Maybe, Zekk thought, Beryl had had it right all along. "Someone is going to get horribly maimed, aren't they?"

_Preferably the person interrogating me about personal information_, said Jaina's wild grin. "Just don't try this on your own. It requires Solo genes and mastery of the Force." She straddled the seat and waited for him to settle behind her.

Despite Jaina's recklessness and even her current frustration with him, Zekk felt a curl of anticipation in his gut. He'd never agreed with Beryl for _long_, after all, so he sat behind Jaina without any further delay. He could see her smile and the gleam of her eyes without looking at her face; familiarity with her mischievousness or Jaina's theory of Force sensitivity, he couldn't be sure. (He wasn't the Jedi type, he reminded himself, but he kept seeing Jaina's face from the previous night.)

Jaina revved the repulsion engines as she turned the bike from the wall. "You might want to hold onto something."


	9. Chapter 9

Jaina managed to dodge every pedestrian, stall, and hovercar in their way, but Zekk felt certain that they had left behind at least one near accident just due to others' panic. Jaina didn't slow down until they were well into the warehouse district—not too far from the Dustbowl, if Zekk wasn't very mistaken. Checking over her shoulder, she took several alleys that barely counted as walkways; Zekk hunched his shoulders, and still expected to not fit. In front of him, Jaina was relaxed—perhaps for the first time since they had run into each other at the Dustbowl.

Although she had given no warning, Zekk leaned in with Jaina as she turned into an underground parking lot. She parked a little too carelessly, and pulled her helmet off before dismounting. "I just have to..." When he looked, she was pressing parts of the nearest wall. "Something Kyp and I rigged up as an alarm. Well." She grinned. "Mostly me."

"An alarm," he noted, looking around.

"As invisible as possible. It won't stop them for long, but nobody will get in here without making a whole lot of racket—plenty of time for us to get into place for either fight or flight."

"Aren't alarms more computer-oriented than your usual?"

Jaina snorted. "Never doubt my tinkering skills. If it's related to a machine, I'll figure it out."

"Let me guess: something you got from your father."

"Exactly. Never doubt the Solo genes—well, besides Jacen, but there's one in every family—and my grandfather just seals the deal."

Zekk gave her a look as she led him to the far end of the lot. "You're talking about your mom's father, aren't you?"

"You see why we get bored on our 'relaxing' vacations. Nothing makes _sense_ if it won't land us in therapy." She smirked back at him.

He caught up with her, and thought about putting an arm around her shoulders. Deciding that wisdom was the better part of valour, however, and that he didn't really need to get dropkicked with Kyp around the corner, Zekk only nudged Jaina with his elbow. "So the adrenaline addiction is genetic, is what you're saying."

"Adrenaline and melodramatic redemptions," she agreed, her smile flattening unexpectedly. She gestured ahead of them at the wall furthest from the parking lot entrance. "Can you see the door?" she asked.

He gave her a look, but inspected the wall. On first glance it was only a seamless slab of concrete, but his mouth twisted. "There's something—" He reached out to touch it, and startled when his fingers went straight through. Jaina was grinning at him, but he ignored her. "You didn't design _this_."

"Nah, but it's handy." She waved a hand through the surprisingly real-looking holo. She stepped partway through it; half her mouth smirked at him. "What are we waiting for?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Kyp's voice scolded from the other side.

Zekk gritted his teeth, remembered Jaina's smile from the night before, and stepped through the holo-wall. On the other side of the mirage there was an industrial sized door. Kyp Durron was leaning against the wall next to it, looking tense. "You're late," he said.

Jaina stopped in front of Kyp, studying him. "I told you we would be. What's wrong?"

"Joolu was on edge this morning."

"I don't like the sound of that." Jaina's eyes darted to Zekk.

"Joolu isn't the most stable guy around," Zekk reminded them, but Jaina's frown only deepened.

Kyp ignored him. "C'mon, the others are waiting." He keyed the door open and led Jaina through; Zekk followed them before Kyp could try to lock him out. "Did Joolu say anything to you?" the other man asked Jaina.

She shook her head, shoulder-to-shoulder with Kyp as they walked up a flight of stairs. "Joolu really wasn't in the mood to see a woman. I got out of there as soon as I could."

Zekk's hackles rose. "How often do you have to be around him, anyway?"

Kyp glanced back at him. "What's wrong, kid—jealous?"

Jaina's face darkened, but she slowed to walk with Zekk. "We should be getting out of here soon," she said. "We almost have enough evidence."

"Won't Traest recognize you?"

"If Traest shows up, he won't leave a free man. I invite him to stop by any time."

"I meant more if he recognizes you and sends Joolu instead of coming himself."

Jaina's eyes flashed. "I can handle myself in a fight."

"If you've finished your unnecessary fretting," Kyp interrupted Zekk's reply, "you could help finish this, and actually do your debriefing."

What he really needed to do, Zekk decided, was get Jaina drunk and find out Kyp's most embarrassing moments. There had to be a tabloid somewhere that would pay for good dirt. Or—hadn't Jaina said once that Kyp was in love with someone? Zekk and Sanar should definitely _meet_.

Jaina's fingers curled around his elbow again, an absent assurance despite their issues; he pushed aside thoughts of petty revenge for later. If Jaina could hunt her kriffer of an ex-fiancé, Zekk was old enough to sabotage Kyp's cool _after_ the dangerous mission. He smiled at Jaina, drawing her into the joke on Kyp's maturity, and failed to respond to Kyp at all.

They walked down a plain hallway and through another keypad-locked door before Jaina and Kyp relaxed. Kyp tossed a last scowl at Zekk before stepping through the last door. Jaina gave Zekk a half-smile and dropped her hand from his arm. "I promise they don't bite," she said, a little too amused by the way he had paused at the entrance.

He rolled his eyes. "I've already met Kyp, and I know you. They _do_ bite."

"Just a little," she laughed. "But you're a big bad street survivor, right? That's why you jumped head first into a sentient trafficking and experimentation mission."

"That the guy you were talking about, Jay?" a strange voice called through the door.

Jaina walked through the entrance; Zekk followed her. "No," she said, "I picked up a stranger and brought him in. You know how the guys react when they find out I'm a Jedi." Her cheeks flushed suddenly, and she wouldn't look at Zekk.

Biting back a grin, Zekk glanced around the room. It had probably been a factory floor once, judging by its size and high ceilings. A long table dominated the front of the room, while computers were at the back. The lights faded in the other corners, but Zekk could see screens flickering in the dark. Near the door was something that tried to be a kitchen; instead, it was clearly a shrine to the caf machine, and just happened to be cluttered with nutri-boosters and quick food. A dozen mugs were pushed next to a sink, waiting for someone to think about asleep.

His eyes returned to the table, which was covered in datapads, flimsi, and more mugs. There were no chairs, but he could see several bedrolls pushed against the left wall. (If they looked more like training mats, Zekk told himself that was just paranoid.) Throughout the Jedi's temporary base was the kind of casual mess that happened when people lived at their work. He couldn't be surprised by Jaina's bruised eyes except that they had bedrolls at all.

"No wonder you don't sleep," he muttered to Jaina, glancing around at the chaos. "Can you guys actually think in here?" But even he could feel the hum of adrenaline and purpose, working its way under his skin and tugging him forward. Even noticing him, Jaina's team kept working around each other, together, with ease; who needed _sleep_?

Jaina didn't even bother telling him not to nag this time. Her back had already straightened in a way he thought her mother had never quite managed to teach her. The brown-eyed woman gave him a smile, but seemed somehow removed from him—the Jedi, his friend. "We'll sleep when we're dead," she said. Her tone was brisker, like it was whenever she talked about her missions.

"Never mind the guy Solo was talking about," said a woman's voice. "Is this the one _Durron_ was talking about?" A humanoid woman vaulted over the wide table and walked until she was too close to them. "Green eyes, black hair, twice your height—definitely your type, Solo. You should invest in some heels." The woman grinned literally from ear to ear; combined with her deep purple skin, she was obviously not as humanoid as Zekk had thought, but he didn't recognize her species.

Jaina seemed unimpressed by the other Jedi's disconcerting smile and lack of personal space. "Really _don't_ start, Krichi."

The violet woman widened her eyes, showing off the cat-like shape and pupils. "He already dumped you and then butted into the mission, he must have figured it out by now."

"Oh, good," said a male voice. "Has the banter started again? We'll make some popped corn, won't be a minute."

Jaina's face relaxed, and she and Krichi rolled their eyes in tandem. "Yarex," Jaina said, sounding pleased. "Where are you, anyway?"

"Just going over your boy's data." Zekk heard decisive tapping, and then a shadow blocked some of the screens in the farthest corner of the room. Yarex was an older man, grey-haired but straight-backed. It took Zekk an extra moment to realize that the human man had only one real leg, the other substituted with a propulsion machine. "Don't mind the leg," the main said, catching Zekk's look. "Helps me fly. Jaina, you're late, aren't you? Any trouble?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle."

Yarex gave her a wry look. "I hear that a lot when I work with you Solos. Always makes me worry what's actually going on, you and your cosiness with trouble."

"Comes with a Solo birth certificate," Jaina said, grinning.

"It must," Yarex agreed. "Though this one here makes me think it's not just blood." He turned to Zekk. "Ready for your debriefing? Jaina, you'll stay here." He glanced back at her. "Grab something to eat, and then help Krichi with the reports."

Jaina grimaced. "Paperwork? I could—"

"The reports, Solo, unless that's the shared limit of your family's talent?"

"Save the galaxy for a headache in triplicate," Jaina muttered. "Yes, sir, I'm going."

"And try not to swear in them this time, you'll just have to edit them." Yarex raised an eyebrow at Zekk. "She knows an impressive amount of Huttese for a Core girl."

"She's fluent in Wookiee, too, I think," Zekk said. "But that's harder to write down, I'm sure."

"Well, if we hear growling, we'll know she's giving it a try. Over here, lad, this'll take a while. You'd better take a seat."

Zekk threw a last glance at Jaina, who was pouring herself an enormous mug of caf but was at least gnawing on the nutri-bar he'd insisted on, and then followed Yarex to the far corner of the room.

_**x-x-x**_

After nearly three hours of being grilled by Yarex on everything Zekk had seen, heard, smelled, and thought during every moment of contact with Joolu, Traest, and while otherwise in the base, the dark-haired man could barely remember what it had actually been like. Yarex had him study hundreds of holo-images to see if he could identify any of the scientists or the lackeys.

"Can't you just—pick it out of my head?" Zekk finally snapped. The morning's minor hangover headache was ready to turn into a migraine. That, combined with his still tumbling thoughts, and despite his growing hatred of Traest's entire enterprise, was making him waspish.

Yarex only raised an eyebrow. "You actually want someone combing through your thoughts? Kyp Durron is the expert here, we could call him over…"

Zekk scowled at him.

"Didn't think so." Yarex shrugged. "Anyway, it would never stand up in court. A Jedi _saw_ it in _your_ head? And if your thoughts were influenced at all, then another person seeing them would just have another story. Court work is done the old-fashioned way, thank you. We're almost finished the primary work, though; we can take a break soon."

Zekk pinched the bridge of his nose, gathering himself. "Okay, right." Dropping his hand, he took a drink of water.

"Traest said he recognized you, at about 2:17 of your mission recording. Any idea how?"

"You asked this already, didn't you?" Zekk waved his hand. "Old-fashioned way. I lived in the Coruscant undercity from age nine up until half a year ago. It's a big planet, but not that big—especially for street rats. You see a lot of faces, keep track of them as much as you can according to threat."

Yarex's gaze was heavy; Zekk shifted in his seat. "Also," he continued, "Traest works for Brakiss, who tried to 'recruit' me years ago—about the same time as Traest, as far as I can tell. I never saw him—Brakiss kept me locked up after I tried to escape—but I suppose it's possible that there was some kind of record, or that Traest saw me unawares."

"Jaina mentioned that." Yarex cleared his throat, and spoke more clearly. "Jedi Knight Jaina Solo mentioned in previous conversation with myself, Yarex Dilsbran, that Zekk had had contact with the Dark Jedi Brakiss. Got away, though." Yarex's gaze was neutral of both pity and suspicion.

"I thought he was delusional."

"Even when he locked you up in a nice room on an Imperial battlestation?"

Zekk's grip tightened on his glass of water. "Nothing in my life had any connection to what he was talking about. He may as well have told me I'd learn to fly."

"Well, we call it a Force jump, actually," Jaina suddenly interrupted.

When Zekk turned around, she was only a foot behind his chair. "A— What?"

"We don't fly, we jump and fall with exceptional skill." She wiggled the fingers of her right hand. "And the Force. You finished yet, Yarex?"

Yarex glanced down at his data-processor, flicked through some pages, and then glanced at his chrono. "Is he going to take off, or will I be able to talk to him again?"

"You're finished," Jaina said, at the same that Zekk said, "I'll be around." Jaina and Zekk exchanged a look; Jaina's inscrutable, Zekk's intent.

When Jaina didn't continue, Zekk did. "I'll be around for a few more days at least—my ship's captain can be unpredictable, but she'll give us warning. After that, Jaina will be able to get into contact with me."

"I'll hold my breath, shall I?" he heard Jaina mutter under her breath. Louder, she told Yarex, "I have his former guardian's number, I'll be able to pass on the message that way, at the very least. Peckhum will bring him around."

"You think I'm going to take off?" Zekk demanded. He had been making _progress_, hadn't he?

Jaina, however, looked unmoved. "I just can't tell, anymore, what you're going to do."

"If you two _children_ are finished," Yarex interrupted, "or at least capable of a temporary ceasefire, I only need Zekk's signature, and then we're done here."

Zekk had carefully avoided signing _anything_ in his life, so it could have been his unfamiliarity with paperwork, but he suspected that Yarex made up a few dozen extra forms requiring his signature. Only when Jaina began to look amused did Yarex say, "Last one."

Zekk finished with his best flourish. "That everything?" he asked. He was beginning to feel outnumbered.

Yarex grinned. "For now." He glanced down. "Clear head, though. You did well. Jaina was right about that."

Zekk flushed; when he turned to look at Jaina, she was faring no better. "Do you have a scrap of flimsi somewhere?" he asked the older man. "Thanks," he added, when Yarex gave him a quarter of a page. He used one of the styluses without asking, jotting down several lines of information. "Here, Jaina." He held it out to her. "My comm number. We ship on Coruscant time, but I get woken up at odd hours all the time, so…"

Jaina took it carefully, barely glancing at the number before slipping it into her jacket pocket. "I can check it later," she said.

He raised an eyebrow. "What, you don't trust me?"

She gave him a look, but didn't answer. "Do you want something to eat or drink?"

He let it go for the moment. "Just a few minutes without being interrogated would be great."

"Yeah, karma's a kriffer," Jaina said brightly. "We have some couches up front."

"I didn't see any," he grumbled. He wondered if Jaina would let him hang onto her and rest his head on her shoulder. The jacket that she had changed into looked soft, even if the wearer was back to being annoyed with him.

She slowed down to keep pace with him. "We usually keep it in the dark area during the night. We only just moved it back out."

"You mean one of you actually slept last night?" he asked, rubbing his temples.

"Obviously you didn't." She gave him a look that he only saw out of the corner of his eye. "And—you don't have a hangover, do you?"

"Just a small one," he insisted. "The headache was mostly gone before Yarex started on the interrogation."

"He actually let you off pretty easy," Jaina offered. "It's different when you're part of the team—we write dozens of reports in triplicate, debrief, then show up in court a couple times. Yarex had to get as much written down and signed for you as he could, though, just in case."

"I spent most of my adolescence trying to avoid questions," he said, glancing at her.

She grinned. "Me, too. You'll just have to get used to them again. Here." She waited while he sat on the hover couch that had indeed been pushed to the wall a few feet from the entrance. "We have some headache pills around here somewhere…"

She left and returned before he could protest. She held out a glass of water and a bright blue pill. "Ta da." She sat on the other side of the couch, but there wasn't much room between them.

"And you say I'm a mother hen," he muttered—quietly, though, because her eyes had softened a little. He swallowed the pill and water quickly before looking at her. "How much longer before you issue arrests?" he asked.

She surveyed the factory floor and the reduced number of Jedi still working. "We have some details we still need to get; pin down as many names and last infractions as we can before they close ranks. If we could catch Traest in the act, it'd seal up his case, but otherwise we should be ready to go in soon." She looked up as Kyp approached them.

"Once you've found the base, you mean," Zekk interjected.

Jaina made a face, but Kyp was the one who answered. "We're working on that now," he told Jaina, looking weary. Zekk wondered how much sleep the team had gotten, on average, since the mission started. "Krichi is going over the desert with a digital comb as we speak."

"Gods." Jaina dropped her head on the back of the couch. "Talk about headaches."

"You get your turn right after me."

Jaina raised her head again to beam, the warning sign of a computer's violent death in the near future. "_Yes_, oh thank you."

"We could switch spots," Kyp suggested, looking similarly enthused. "You can go next instead."

"No, no, Kyp, real tabloid love requires sacrifice. I'll take one for the holo-capture. _You_ can go first."

"Your bravery inspires me. They'll write poems about you someday, you and your willingness to _sacrifice_." He brushed Jaina's shoulder with his hand. "Almost done."

She smiled more genuinely, reflecting warmth back at Kyp. "Yes."

"I'll let you know when it's your turn," the other Jedi said, and gave her a sandwich Zekk hadn't noticed. "You look like sith warmed over, Solo, your dad'll kill me. Eat something, will you?"

"I'm twenty-six," she protested as Kyp left. "I can— My parents still have spies everywhere. What?" She looked at Zekk, nibbling on the sandwich.

Zekk studied her face, the lingering warmth from her banter with the other Jedi. "Kyp knows about Traest."

She scowled at him, but soon dropped the expression. "I told you, he was there." She smiled at the other side of the room, where Kyp was obviously either provoking or flirting with Krichi. "He signed up for this mission before I'd even heard of it."

"No _wonder_ the tabloids are obsessed with you two," Zekk grumbled discontentedly.

She laughed at him, a lighter sound. "Kyp's family. I grew up with him, and we have prank wars, and we've always been there for each other. Especially after— But we'd probably kill each other if we ever lived together with romantic pretensions."

Zekk wanted to say something to draw her closer to him, but his headache had receded enough that he knew it wouldn't work as well as he wanted it to. Jaina kept glancing at the other Jedi to measure the work they still had to do. "Is there anything else I can do to help?" he asked instead.

Jaina looked back at him. "How's your head?" she asked in a way that told he was only underfoot, splitting her attention.

He grinned at her. "Much better now. I was thinking, I've kind of disappeared on the crew for the past few days, and with Raven knowing that I'm friendly with a Jedi…"

"Stars." Jaina rubbed her face. "If they give you trouble—"

"Don't worry about it," he tried to tell her.

"—just tell them Jedi don't deal with general smuggling. Sentient trafficking and slave transportation, sure, but we leave everything else up to actual governments. There isn't even close to enough of us to worry about all the different legislation on trade, by which I do mean a headache _billions of statutes_, and—"

"There are other jobs," he pointed out, a little surprised by her concern.

"—it's completely outside of our jurisdiction, so the amount of toes we'd be stepping on is just—really, I'd be in more trouble than any of your crew." She frowned, finally listening to him. "I know that, but you obviously enjoy it. You can remind her who my dad is, that might help."

"Really, don't worry about it. I just have to smooth out some feathers, and I did most of that last night. Raven knows I'm not actually a liability."

Jaina's face darkened before she hid the expression. "That's good," she said stiltedly. "That…Raven knows."

He gave her an odd look, but shrugged and stood. "Anyway, I should go do that, and let you finish up here."

"What? Oh, right." She frowned and looked around the room. She didn't say anything else, instead looked around; she seemed faintly perplexed.

"Jaina?" he prompted.

She shook her head. "Sorry. Here." She stood and fished a key out of her pocket. "Take the bike. You remember the way back, right?"

"Have you seen Coruscant's undercity?" He took the key. "Mos Eisley is nothing. Most of the streets even have names, not to mention just one level."

She grinned absently, glancing at Kyp and Krichi before looking back at him. "You have a weapon?"

He raised an eyebrow, but decided that Jaina's team had earned some measure of paranoia. He pulled up the hem of his jacket, letting her see his shoulder holster. "Street rat, remember?"

"Dark Jedi, organized crime, and Force sensitive experimentation, remember?" she retorted. "I should walk you to the bike myself."

Zekk could imagine Peckhum's gleeful reaction to that, but Zekk's pride refused to be walked to the door like a child just so that he could think about kissing Jaina at an inappropriate moment. "You won't, actually," he said.

"If this is about your ego," she told him, smirking a little, "I _am_ a Jedi. I've protected people far more bad ass than you." She had mostly relaxed, though; she wouldn't insist.

"You're also two feet shorter than me," he replied.

"That is a _foul_ exaggeration—"

"Not much of one," he told her. "And I might not be a Jedi, but I can survive without the mystical life-long training."

"It doesn't take that long anymore," she said. "Nothing compared to the Old Republic. The in-class training, especially."

One more thing to talk about after the mission. Zekk wondered if he should make a list. "I'll see you later?"

"I have to pick up the bike," she agreed.

Zekk squeezed her shoulder as he walked past her to the doorway. "Stay out of trouble, will you?"

She grinned up at him. "I'm good with trouble, we're old friends. _You_ be careful."

"I always am," he said, looking right at the proof of that lie.

Jaina only rolled her eyes and went back to work.

_**x-x-x**_

Zekk was pulling the bike out of the carport fifteen minutes later. He looked back at the warehouse, feeling as if he had missed or lost something. It was becoming familiar in the past week, though, so he tried to ignore it. Peckhum would only pick up on his preoccupation and insist it had something to do with—

The stun bolt took Zekk completely by surprise.


	10. Chapter 10

**Alia's Dragon**: Thanks so much for taking the time to review! I'm glad you're enjoying the characters/banter, as well as the AU; it's been fun to explore the small differences, and how they ripple down the timeline and in the characters. And I'm a J/Z shipper to the core, so I'm always pleased to pass on the love ;)

_**x****-x**_

_**x-x-x-x-x**_

Zekk had been knocked unconscious before, but waking up afterwards never felt less disorienting. In this case, the harsh lighting made him wince and curl back in on himself even before he had opened his eyes. His headache had returned three-fold, but now with added nausea. His last memory was fuzzy and contained some blue, so he concluded—_ow, his head_—that he had been hit in the back with a very potent stun bolt. He squinted his eyes open, then quickly shut them again. He was lying on the floor. Carpet, but the floor; and the walls were much more cell-like than the rug under his cheek suggested.

His head hurt. He was pretty sure—yes, his hands were bound tightly in front of him. His thoughts did not want to gather. But. He thought that this…might be familiar. "Nrgh," he declared himself. "Which of you…cowards shot me in the _back_?"

"Extraction only," someone said. "None of your allies, thank you, but what's honour to a snitch, anyway?"

Dear kriff, Zekk's head hurt. And—gods, he'd told Jaina he would be fine, that he could easily protect himself to just the bike, she would _never let him live this down_.

"I figured out where I recognized you from," the voice continued after a moment.

Zekk dragged his head up, and remembered why he had never joined a gang or taken their protection; the other side always found you out. Zekk tried not to squint at Traest, but the snake was sitting on a chair, practically right in front of the gorram lights. "Traest," he grunted. He managed to push some of the pain aside for later, and pulled himself up to lean against the wall. Never be overconfident when the others have you, he reminded himself; recuperate, don't push until you have to. But Zekk refused to lie down and just take it. "You—" He ignored the stars as he straightened himself. "You were one of the pickpockets. On Coruscant."

"And you were a scavenger," Traest acknowledged. He looked sullen, but very watchful. "Yes, I did remember that, too. But I saw you in Brakiss' files. You're still the Darkest Knight, as far as he's concerned."

"The— What the kriff are you talking about?"

Traest raised an eyebrow and ignored him. "His plans for you would have ended it, though—a suicide mission on Jedi brats? C'mon."

"So what, you're me in another life?" Zekk asked, trying to sound unimpressed instead of disturbed. He was glad, suddenly, that at least no one could hear his own fears put forward.

Traest gave him an odd sort of grin, not quite vicious. "Two orphans grow up in the undercity, are given a chance to work outside of others' pockets, and make it off-planet. What are the odds of you, anyway?"

"I would never—"

"You sold us out to the Jedi," Traest interrupted. "I don't think you get to whine about a stun bolt in the back."

Zekk's head was beginning to clear, some muscle control had returned. He scoffed. "Says the man involved in sentient experimentation and the slave market."

"That girl who messed you up, yeah?" Traest said. "Was she the one who taught you to be a self-righteous little bugger who thinks he don't stink? Because you're floating quite merrily in denial about what you wouldn't ever do. No wonder you turned to the Jedi."

Zekk stared at Traest for a long moment, disoriented. "Sith hells," he finally said, because it wasn't _right_. Maybe Jaina and Traest believed otherwise, but Zekk could not imagine that Traest wouldn't be more—something—if he really knew what Zekk had been doing. Not after that kriffing ring. "You—" he managed to grunt, "you don't even know."

"What, are you going to taunt me with your amazing Force powers? There are enough ysalamiri around you to test the effects of exposure. And I've had enough training to knock you flat even when you _don't_ look like sith warmed over."

Zekk had studied the old holo many times over the past six months, so he could see it exactly: the perfectly inexplicable ring on Jaina's finger, the arm around her waist as the couple were caught by unobservant paparazzi. "Jaina Solo is part of the Jedi team," he told Traest, which was when Brakiss walked into the cell. Zekk ignored the older man so he could try to decipher Traest's expression, but Traest seemed as stunned by the information as Zekk had been by the man's ignorance.

"Traest," Brakiss snapped when his employee failed to acknowledge him.

The blue-haired man swallowed and quickly turned to Brakiss. He almost looked composed. "Yes, sir."

"Joolu's approaching—go and deal with him."

A look of pure loathing crossed Traest's face; Zekk's reveal had obviously unbalanced him. "'Deal with him'?" he repeated darkly.

"We still need him," Brakiss snarled. "Unless you'd like his job back?"

"I know a girl who'd be awfully disappointed, Traest," Zekk chimed in, because the stun bolt had apparently scrambled his brain. "She's had to spend a little too much time with him, I think she'd get territorial about his blood."

"The Jedi," Brakiss noted to Traest.

Traest's expression had tightened and gone very cold. He nodded once. "They must have—"

"I'm so pleased that your team is so _competent_, Traest, really, that you could miss a Jedi parading around in a short skirt. Was it a _very_ short skirt?"

"I just got here," Traest said through gritted teeth. "And Joolu's the one who—"

"True leadership," Brakiss mocked. "Delegating blame for your own shortcomings. You see what you left me with, Zekk? Thank you for the tip, though, it's always wise to be aware of your position. Traest, see to Joolu now, if you can manage _that_ much."

Traest left with a tense nod for Brakiss and a black glare for Zekk. Zekk was too busy castigating himself for the stupid things that came out of his mouth when he worked on impulse. But Brakiss or Traest had been planning a review, either would have recognized Jaina immediately, and they'd already known the Jedi were here; and Jaina would realize soon that he was missing, wouldn't she? At least by evening, when she stopped to pick up the speedbike—unless she meant to go to the Dustbowl first, but Zekk could have been out for hours. And the Jedi were wrapping up the mission, so maybe…

"Look at you," Brakiss said, interrupting Zekk's thoughts. The blond man, looking older and harder than the last time, smiled almost genially. "Welcome back, my boy. It's been quite a while—you're working with the _Jedi_ now, though? After everything I offered you, that's quite the demotion."

"Well, they have better health benefits," Zekk snarked.

"Glorified foot soldiers for their New Republic," Brakiss said dismissively. "You were supposed to be _great_."

"See, but at least working for the NR won't land me in another cell."

"You're in one now," Brakiss snapped.

"Another decade free than working for you would have given me. Do you put all your cannon fodder in cells when you try to recruit them?"

"Cannon—" Brakiss chuckled, his eyes flashing. "The Jedi didn't tell you? I hope you aren't letting them use you so cavalierly."

Zekk shrugged, but anxiety tightened in his gut. "No different than you."

"_Wrong_." Brakiss began to look angry. "You were meant to lead beside me as the Darkest Knight; instead, you're playing messenger boy for people no more powerful than you?"

Zekk's heart sank. "You have the wrong person—"

"Didn't they tell you?" Brakiss' eyes gleamed with something like triumph. "Have their egos really grown so much that they think they can keep your gifts hidden?" Brakiss snorted. "Ignored again by the New Republic, Zekk, as if growing up alone wasn't enough. They don't deserve you."

Zekk remembered exactly how crazy Brakiss had seemed all those years ago; even with years and better understanding of who Brakiss was, however, Zekk didn't think more of Brakiss' words. He had seen the labs, knew what Traest had done for Brakiss. Listening to him now would have required years of brainwashing. "Somehow," he said, "your offer fails to tempt."

"You'd rather help people who lied to you, hid the truth of your potential?" Brakiss snarled.

Zekk glared back at him. The feeling had returned to his limbs, and the cotton was quickly filtering out of his brain. He had escaped when he was sixteen, he could certainly do it now.

"You aren't a boy anymore, Zekk." Brakiss voice no longer had even a veneer of friendliness. "Adults make decisions. You will join us, or you will be moved to our labs. You have one—"

And then the shooting started.


	11. Chapter 11

The bomb, Zekk thought, seemed a little inadvisable in an underground building, but what did he know—maybe it wasn't as bad as it felt. The ground tremored, and Zekk looked up; Brakiss had escaped through the door and bolted it while Zekk was still catching himself.

"Right," the dark-haired man grumbled, "there goes destiny."

The sensible thing, he thought as he walked up to Traest's abandoned chair, would be to just let the Jedi do their rescuing, and hope that neither Jaina nor Kyp found him. Zekk didn't like his actual odds of getting someone who would forget his damsel-in-distressing, of course, but it _would_ be sensible. Still, with his luck, the raid was by a rival slave trader instead of the Jedi. Zekk had never managed to keep track of gang colours on Coruscant; best to just make a run for it on his own.

The room's door was a steel monster, Zekk considered as he heaved the chair to his waist. The chair was heavy, but it still took several awkward hits before the observation window splintered, and still more before it actually broke. His cuffs didn't help, but Zekk had managed a full escape with his hands tied as a teen, so jumping over the sill was a little bloody, but not impossible.

Zekk avoided most of the glass in his landing, and he stood carefully. Glancing around, he saw nothing of interest except the door. He palmed it open, and peeked down both ends of the hallway outside. It was much louder; no denying that the compound was being invaded, with the shouts, buzzing, and blaster fire. He didn't see anyone nearby, though. He hesitated a moment, then turned left on impulse.

The noise grew steadily as he walked through the corridors. The lights flickered as if someone had tampered with them—a thought proven true when the lights suddenly deactivated, then dimly returned with a red emergency tint. Zekk pulled himself closer to the wall, disliking how easy a target he was with cuffed hands and no camouflage.

Inevitably, the shouts and boot steps came far too close. It still came as a surprise when he recognized the sound of several people running directly toward him. Unwilling to take on a whole gang of possible enemies, Zekk disappeared into a room just off the hallway, and then (though much less easily) into the vent he found there. The air ducts were enormous for their ilk, had to be in an underground base, but raised well off the floor. He consoled himself with the fact that Jaina would hardly be able to reach the vent without cheating, and there seemed to be much more fighting than hiding in this raid. He had barely pulled his feet in when the voices became clearer, and he shoved the grating back in place. The door had not shut properly, old swinging thing that it was, but even if it were conspicuous in the middle of a raid, at least he would see his enemies before they saw him.

"What'd they…miri in the walls?" one of them said. "Kriffers."

"…or getting closer," another said, slightly familiar.

A third voice muttered something Zekk couldn't make out, and then he caught a bare glimpse of people running past the door. All in all, fantastically anti-climatic. Zekk gave the grating in front of him a dubious look; it hadn't let him in easily, and he had fairly jammed it back into place behind him. He was about to start on it when he heard steps slowing outside the door. He stilled, then pulled back as far as he could. The grating was difficult to see through, and Zekk paused to be sure: a short, dark-haired woman peeked into the doorway, then wandered into the room to scan it carefully, holding a violet lightsaber before her. Jaina.

On the bright side, Zekk thought to himself, Kyp would have mocked him far worse than Jaina would. And it _was_ awfully holo-film; Peckhum's advice might even work. Still, no need to let her laugh herself silly as she got him out of the air duct.

He looked down for a moment at the grating. At the sound of flesh-on-flesh impact, he jerked his head back up and froze. Traest stood in the doorway, lowering his right leg from a kick. Jaina fell to the floor more gracefully than Zekk would have, but rolled back up with a blaster pointed at her head, and her lightsaber thrown a metre away.

Zekk couldn't read Traest's expression except to note the wide grin. "Solo."

Nothing could hide the tightness in Jaina's shoulders, but her reaction was very underwhelming, all things considered. "Traest." Her voice was level.

Traest had the advantage of seeing her expression; he laughed. "Kriff, your face still doesn't hide a thing. No one told you to work on that in the past couple years?"

Jaina's fingers moved; Traest took a step forward. "The Force won't do you any good in here, Solo. Your healing, either, so I suggest you stay nice and still."

Jaina put her hands on her hips, probably just to spite him. "Where's Zekk?"

"Brakiss' Darkest Knight, you mean? You really should start doing background checks, Solo." He tilted his head, grinning. "But you always were reckless."

"Well, and you grew up to be a mother kriffer, Traest, so maybe not all change is for the better."

"Like you hiring a civilian to do your dirty work?"

Zekk could almost see the way Jaina worked her jaw in frustration. "He really just charged in on his own, actually."

"And then sang like a morning bird when he got captured."

"Of course he did," Jaina lashed back. "He's a civilian, that's what he's _supposed_ to do: get out alive."

Traest's expression turned cold and ugly. "Your double standard—"

"Zekk's nothing like you," Jaina snapped.

"Because I'm a monster, right?" Traest replied, equally furious. "I was the only traitor between the two of us. News flash, sweetheart: your new boyfriend is just like me. He just decided to keep hiding. If he'd seen what I had—"

"Oh my gods," Jaina sneered; Zekk could hear her rolling her eyes. "Let me guess: it's still my fault."

"—if he'd thought for a second he _could_," Traest was saying.

"Which of you is working with Brakiss, and which of you is trying to stop him?"

"If he'd known _you_, like I did," Traest spat, twisting the knife as hard as he could. "He would have believed Brakiss."

Jaina paused; then attacked with a laugh. Traest looked briefly discomfited. "'Believed'? Gods, Traest, when did you start believing in anything but the job?"

"You were the job." Traest was back in control; his smirk grew.

Jaina was too angry to hide her intention; before she had raised her right arm to swing at Traest, the other man shot a blaster bolt into the wall not far from Zekk's hiding place. The room's occupants froze; then Traest realigned his blaster with Jaina's head. Jaina cursed Traest in Huttese as she gingerly prodded her singed neck; Zekk forced himself to breathe. Zekk was mostly certain that Traest would not kill Jaina. Almost entirely certain, even. But it felt very petty now to see if he could get the truth from Jaina and Traest while they thought they were unobserved.

"By all means," Traest mocked Jaina, "telegraph to the guy with a blaster on you. I'm not going with any of you, so you can forget arresting me."

"But we already have a nice cell picked out for you, Traest, and I know your cellmate is eager to meet you." When he didn't say anything, she huffed and probably rolled her eyes. "By all means, keep talking; I'm not the only Jedi in this building."

The former couple stared at each other, tense and sizing up their opponent. Traest moved to the side of the doorway, his back to the wall, but remained silent. Zekk couldn't read Traest but thought—perhaps—that he could understand the other man. Just a bit. He wondered if Jaina did.

Jaina ignored the blaster pointed at her, and wandered to the other side of the doorway so she was facing Traest. Her lightsaber wasn't any closer. "Where's Zekk?"

Traest stared at her for a moment, then laughed almost softly. "Kriff. So he really is…?"

Jaina glared back at him, but Zekk thought she softened somewhere in the way he had always missed before. "None of your business."

"Clearly, you have a type." Traest almost sounded fond.

"Wasn't that the point?" she groused back.

Traest ignored her. "No wonder you were so protective. He's fine, Brakiss has a soft spot for him. Not-so-encroaching madness, you know." The man shrugged.

"Was it encroaching? I must have missed that part."

"You were young."

"Young enough to get played by you."

"If it makes you feel any better, sweetheart, I am _very_ good."

Jaina snorted. "A child knows how to manipulate someone who loves them. You weren't that amazing."

"I think if you'd actually loved me, Jaina, things might have turned out very differently."

She laughed, surprisingly genuine for all that her words were mocking. "You would have turned cliché, renounced Brakiss, and run off into the redeemed sunset with me?"

Zekk leaned forward against the grating, needing to catch the nuances. At the same time, Jaina looked away from Traest, almost the angle she'd need to look at Zekk's hiding place.

"I think—" Traest said.

Jaina straightened suddenly. "That you're very comfortable with lies when you're trying to manipulate me? That makes two of us. But you know what's more surprising? You haven't actually done anything to get away yet. Keep talking, I'll have to think you aren't actually planning to use that blaster."

Traest chuckled with Jaina. "I never actually went after you," he offered.

It was the wrong response; Jaina's eyes flashed. "Yes," she said heartlessly, "you did." In the space of a blink, she produced a tiny blaster from—as far as Zekk could tell, if not believe—the back of her belt.

"Look, you found a Jaina-sized blaster," Traest said, no longer smiling now that she had a weapon pointed back at him. "Bet discharging it has twice the paperwork, though, if Jedi are even authorized to use blasters, let alone non-standard ones. Do you know how to use that thing? It's actually not the same as researching it on the holo-net."

"Shut up and drop your blaster."

"If you shoot, I won't tell you where Zekk is being held."

"I'll figure it out." Jaina smiled thinly. "Do you know, I've imagined a thousand ways to get back at you for what you did to me and my family. And let's face it, you aren't exactly—well, firing at a Jedi, that's exactly the kind of reckless thing you'd do, even if your aim sucks. And even the paperwork—" She cleared her throat. "I believed you. It'd be worth it."

No, Zekk thought as loudly as he could. No, it wouldn't; he remembered the night after Quec'slig, and a dozen times she'd come into the Flash and drained her glass of brandy too quickly. And if Jaina knew Traest wasn't going to shoot her— It wouldn't be worth it. This had gone too far. Zekk focused on the grating before him, and shifted so that his right foot pressed against it.

Traest straightened his blaster arm. "What would your family say about _that_?"

Zekk kicked through the grating; half a second before the grating fell, Jaina kicked Traest's blaster out of the man's hand and twisted his arms around his back. Traest pulled at the hold, but Jaina must have been a good deal stronger than she looked. She pulled a set of handcuffs out of her jacket and locked her ex-fiancé's hands behind him. Zekk jumped free of the air duct, and paused to watch her. "Traest, you are under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder, sentient trafficking, and unethical sentient experimentation. These charges may be expanded upon at the crown attorney's discretion as evidence is presented, and you will be notified of any changes. You have the right to remain silent; anything you say can be held against you in a court of law."

Traest grunted, but didn't fight her, especially when Zekk retrieved the other man's blaster and pointed it at Traest's head. Jaina glanced up at Zekk; she looked grim, but not surprised by his appearance.

"You have the right to an attorney," she continued. "If you can't afford one, one will be appointed to you." She pulled Traest straight again, none too gently if Traest's expression was anything to go by. "And as a personal aside, you might want to avoid Kyp Durron and my family." She looked out the doorway at the sound of running. "Oh. Too late. Well, maybe just stay away from my family as much as you can."

Zekk couldn't suppress his grin. "On the bright side, Kyp doesn't seem the type to share."

"…the kriff are you, Jaina?" Kyp was saying before he walked into the room. Upon seeing Traest in handcuffs, Kyp's expression shone with even more glee than Zekk had expected. "Oh, look," said the Destroyer of Carida. "Jaina, I'll take him off your hands, shall I? We wouldn't want there to be a conflict of interest or anything else to complicate the case."

"Right," Jaina said sceptically, "or anything." Zekk couldn't quite make out her expression, but she pushed Traest to Kyp. "Remember, we'll have to process his holo-image."

"He won't appeal," Kyp said, sounding pleased. "I guarantee prison will be better than bail. Traest, you and I are going to talk about plea bargains with lots of talking and no reduced sentences."

Zekk raised an eyebrow as Kyp pushed Traest ahead of him out the door. "So _that's_ arrest without conflict of interest."

Jaina waved a hand, but the way she swallowed belied her casual air. "Don't worry, we have a lawyer on retainer just for Kyp's ethic cases. They meet up twice a month to scream at each other about treatment of prisoners and whether or not the end justifies the means. Stick around, you might even get to see them. It's hilarious. Not many people can keep up with Kyp, but—"

"Jaina," he interrupted her rambling. "Yes, I heard everything; and yes, we're going to talk about it, but not here."

She rolled her eyes, and her expression hardened. "Zekk," she said, "much though I appreciate the fact that you are unharmed, I'm not saying another word about anything until we've picked _you_ over. Resign yourself, or I'll hand you over to Kyp." She turned on her heel, then paused. "Also, you aren't ever going to hear the end of getting kidnapped in the parking lot, so I suggest you stay close."

Zekk chose wisdom, and stayed both quiet and close.


	12. Chapter 12

Zekk didn't see much of Jaina over the next four days. She had escorted him more or less immediately to the _Hawk_ after his not-rescue, and ordered him to neither get caught again (Brakiss had, apparently, been a predictable leader and escaped) nor leave without letting her know. She had commed him twice (and Raven, he was dreadfully certain, at least once) in the meantime, but hadn't left the underground compound since the Jedi began the mass arrests. Kyp had stopped by once, to turn Scooti into jelly and send Hrul through the roof, but also to mock Zekk and let him know that Jaina was both fine and pissed at Zekk. Zekk had rolled his eyes and sent the Jedi back with sandwiches.

The newspapers didn't miss the influx of Jedi lawyers and evidence collectors; they printed both facts and speculation before the first day had ended. Raven gave him a narrow look over the headlines as they shared breakfast the next morning. "Just stopping by, was she?" Raven asked blandly. "Thought she'd take down a slavery ring for her vacation?"

"The Solo family," he replied, "is a bunch of adrenaline junkies. She can't help herself." His mouthful of omelette turned sour.

"And you…?"

"Saw a chance to do some good. Fire me or get used to it, but I'm not apologizing for that."

Raven grumbled something, but returned to her breakfast.

Peckhum, for his part, called in reinforcements as soon as he heard that Jaina and Zekk hadn't seen each other in days.

"Man," Mique told Zekk on the third day, "you're embarrassing us at the Flash. Beryl has a girlfriend now, just since you left. Asked her out the same day they met, even."

Zekk would have liked very much to know when his love life became a matter of the Flash's honour. Instead, he set his jaw. "Things are really crazy right now. We're not avoiding each other, she's making mass arrests and other—legal stuff, collecting evidence, interrogating people. It's— What happened?" he asked when both Mique and Peckhum disappeared.

"That clatter was Peckhum dropping the comm," Mique said with boundless patience. The image focused back on the bartender, who must have picked it up again. "I'll give it back when he can't see his grandchildren disappearing anymore."

"I will hang up on you," Zekk threatened.

"Dude," Beryl interrupted from off-screen. "Would you, already? Peckhum's turning awfully purple, the longer you take to fix this."

Obviously, Zekk needed new friends. Or at least for his old ones to find their own damned love lives.

_**x-x-x**_

Zekk spent a full day in the open market looking at old and slightly broken mechanical parts. He bartered far too long for a very broken skybike, even when he noticed that most of the front half was just barely attached. It would take months to fix it, even if Jaina was as much of a mechanical whiz as she claimed.

He lugged the heap of junk back to the _Hawk_ late in the evening, when most of the stalls were closing down, and the suns had set and left a cooler breeze. Scooti was set on going to another club; Hrul, having found out about the Dustbowl's happenings, looked like a nightmare nanny as he followed the mechanic off the ship. Zekk and Raven stayed in and played card games. By the end of it, they were both very drunk, and Raven was hassling him about being _the Jaina Solo_'s boyfriend. Zekk, drunk enough to be resigned to how many people were poking their noses in his love life, decided that Raven's joviality meant he could keep his job.

A job, Raven slurred very early in the morning, that would involve leaving Mos Eisley in three (technically two) days.

_**x-x-x**_

Zekk finally bought flowers. At the time, it had seemed like the only way to keep Peckhum from having a stroke over Zekk's heretofore lack of holo-film gestures. Peckhum's face had faded to a sort of fuchsia when he saw the red starflowers. "And don't forget to dip her for your kiss," Peckhum had said, sounding a little less desperate, to which Zekk had given him a very sceptical look. Peckhum had made a sound as if he was struggling mightily, before consoling himself: "At least you have flowers. They'll send a message."

When Zekk gave the bouquet to Jaina, however, she looked as if this particular message had been written in Old Nubian, long before the characters had even matched up with Basic letters. "Um," she said. Belatedly, she took them, but he couldn't help but wonder if she thought they would bite her nose off. "Thank you."

Zekk scratched the back of his neck, and glanced around his room. At least, he thought, they had decided against having their talk in public. "They're flowers," he told her.

She made a face at him, but looked less like she had never watched a holo-film in her life. "I _know_ what they _are_, Zekk." She paused. "They're very pretty." The _what the kriff am I supposed to do with flowers_ was very loud, for all it was unspoken.

"You put them in water. The florist said." Zekk sensed this conversation had not started well, especially after the drunken message he had apparently left on Jaina's comm machine the day before. Jaina, when she had called in the middle of his noon hangover, had sounded as if he'd only rambled on for hours about her eyes, or somesuch nonsense, but Zekk felt certain that he was not quite that hopeless.

"Look, Peckhum watches way too many holo-films, and this was the least awkward peace offering." Zekk bit his tongue before he mentioned the serenade or the proposal. If the flowers were awkward, then joking about proposals would be…unwise.

Jaina was still staring at them, but a smile made headway. "You do realize I kill _everything_, right? Even Jacen has stopped getting me pets and plants."

He relaxed a little when she ducked her face to smell the bouquet. "Well, they're cut flowers, so really, they're already dead."

Jaina touched one of the petals, then set them down on Zekk's desk. "Well, tell Peckhum thank you."

They stood for a moment in increasingly awkward silence. Jaina began to fumble with her multi-tool, and he took note of the deeper shadows under her eyes. She looked calmer, though, resolute rather than running on just vengeance and caffeine. He wondered if anyone had left her alone with Traest yet, or if Kyp had even left her anything to deal with.

"So, the truce is over," he said, wishing he had managed to organize his thoughts in the waiting time. Now, he decided, would be a good time for his instincts to work their magic.

A grin bloomed on Jaina's face, but she ducked her head to hide it. "You agreed to a free hit, as I recall."

He winced. "I'll talk," he insisted over anything she might have said. "I just—I thought you were going to marry Jag."

"We already established your inexplicable faith in tabloids, Zekk, and it wasn't a very good reason to run off and ignore me for months. Were you ever going to contact me, or have you just been scrambling to deal this whole time on Mos Eisley?"

"I was going to," he protested firmly. "But by the time I knew you _weren't_ engaged, I knew you'd be pissed at me, and—"

"There's this thing, Zekk, about being an adult, where you face things."

"Oh, like you're one to talk. Just because you managed to drag your ducks in a row for _once_ before me—"

"Right, it's my fault."

"I didn't mean it like that," he snapped. "I just—after our talk, about the future—and then in your message you said you had something to tell me— I didn't want to see you settle for Jag."

"First off, Jag's a great guy, so leave him out of this. Second, I'm glad you have such a high opinion of my romantic choices that I'd 'settle' for anyone. You didn't even know about Traest at the time."

"No, I didn't, so it never made sense to me why you—the thing with Jag. I thought you weren't taking any risks." Jaina looked incensed, and she raised her hands as if to shake him. Zekk hurried on before she could say something like _Traest doesn't explain anything_ when he really, really did. "And I knew that I—" Zekk stumbled, suddenly, swallowing as his mind snagged like old cloth on wire.

Jaina's expression settled, as if she sensed his answer was coming; her shoulders braced. "Well, then, what's the real reason?"

He forced the words out, because it would get easier after the first part. "You were right about me…stalling. You still shouldn't have arranged that interview, but—I needed to get out of Coruscant."

"But what does that have to do with you avoiding me for _six_—"

"Because I couldn't find out you were engaged to Jag and then leave!" he insisted, frustrated. "And I couldn't hear that you _weren't_ engaged and still planning to visit once a week, because I would have wanted to stay and just keep on—" Zekk's throat had dried out completely, and his voice died with a sharp squeeze. He coughed and walked to his sink to pour himself a glass of water. He avoided looking at Jaina as he drank. "I had to leave, or I wouldn't have ever, and I couldn't let anything stop me."

She almost paused, but said, "You should have said something, or—"

"I know, but I didn't, and I'm sorry. I was just—I was furious with you for being right, and with myself for… I wasn't sure I could trust myself to keep going."

"A message," she insisted, "or even a holo after you'd left, a holo after a couple _weeks_, even. How was bumping into me half a year later enough?"

He inhaled deeply, and wondered absently how long she'd looked for Traest after his disappearance before it slapped her in the face, then dismissed the thought as both unfair and irrelevant. Instead, he turned to face her properly. She wasn't furious, but tired, definitely. Her jaw was firm. _You get to fix this one_, her crossed arms told him; _and don't cop out by asking about my comm message, either_, snipped her eyebrows. A year of friendship, and the past several days, though, made Zekk think that he could pull them through this.

Jaina broke the silence first; she never could stand to let it sit. "I want you to be everything you can be, I would have—I'm old enough, I would have left myself, if I thought…"

"I needed to do this on my own." He flushed. "It isn't good enough for months of silence, but it's the truth. I'm sorry, I can't change it."

"Yeah," Jaina said, "there's a lot of that to go around."

"Yeah." Zekk paused, then swallowed. "So, think you can forgive me?"

She smiled a little, still looking tired. "This doesn't fix everything, but— 'Course. Friends."

He had known that, hadn't he, and it was still a relief, but strangely tempered by a sense of dissatisfaction. "Friends."

Jaina glanced away, then back with the same smile. "Yep."

"So about that free hit I gave you, should I be expecting that soon?"

She shrugged, smirking. "I just arrested my manipulative ex-fiancé. Unless you disappear again, I've got more than enough outlet for relationship revenge."

Zekk opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it.

"What?"

He shook his head. "I just wondered—" He gauged the shadows under her eyes, her scraped-clean fingers, and the number of times he'd pushed her in the past two weeks. "It doesn't matter." They had time; they could both wait for more truth.

But Jaina inhaled deeply, hardly seeming to brace herself at all, and straightened. "No, what is it? Something about my kriff-up love life."

"You don't have to answer," he said quickly. "You were right, I saw an opening and I've been digging around without care."

Jaina snorted. "Zekk, I just _arrested_ my _ex-fiancé_. I've been processing hard drives of information for his file for the past five days on only a little more sleep than I did during the mission. Plus, you already interrogated me about everything, I'm almost getting used to it."

"Never mind."

"No—" She sighed. "Really, there probably won't be a better time." She crossed the room and sat on Zekk's bed. She deliberately folded her hands in her lap. "Fire away. As your friend, I have no problem telling you to kriff off."

Zekk hesitated, then pulled his chair close to the bed. He sat, and watched her carefully for a moment. "The tabloids marry you and Kyp every other week, and then—then throw in flings and affairs with guys you've never met, let alone the ones you have."

"Ah, I see."

"That night you first told me about Traest, after you'd left, I tried some holo-searches, but I couldn't find _anything_ that connected you to Traest, let alone information about your engagement and break-up. Even your team doesn't know about it, except for Kyp." She didn't look angry yet, even though her expression had closed in. "How is that possible? Even if it was better then—"

"It was much worse, actually." Jaina's fingers twisted together until her knuckles were white. "My mom was Chief of State; you should have seen the paparazzo's treatment of my first mission, it was— As crazy as it is now, I don't have photographers stalking me, at least not usually."

"You couldn't have paid off all of them—"

Jaina laughed. "Not with all the credits in the galaxy." She paused, slanting her eyes up at him. He half-expected her to get up and run, even fancied he could read the urge in her tense frame, but she stayed resolutely still. "With Traest—it all happened so quickly. There probably are other holo-images out there of us, discarded photographers who didn't realize what they had. And I…went rather off the rails for most of it. Clubbing, drinking, and—" Her throat constricted, and her cheeks flushed deep red. "I'd been penning up a lot of stuff, and Traest figured out how to make it keep spinning out even worse than it was. The press had a field day.

"But it wasn't all public. Traest kept himself out of the holo-cameras whenever he could, and acted like a casual friend when he couldn't. Everything else stayed firmly behind locked doors."

"Okay, but after the engagement—"

She shook her head. "I don't think even the tabloids expected anything real from my behaviour at the time. But it happened so quickly. I had barely told my parents when I found out—" She hesitated, her eyes flicking up to Zekk and then away. "He'd been feeding Brakiss information about my family, dismantling their missions, my mother's work. There were even a few assassination attempts on my family." She swallowed. "Anakin was in the hospital for—"

Zekk reached out and took her right hand. She stared only a few seconds before threading her fingers through his. Zekk looked at their hands for a moment, thinking. "Traest never told the tabloids, did he?"

Jaina tried to pull her hand away, but Zekk didn't let her. She settled for glaring at him. The silence stretched.

"Unless he just couldn't prove anything."

Her expression shuttered completely. "He had more than enough proof. Of everything." She paused again, then sighed heavily. Her hand relaxed in his. "I scoured the holo-net for weeks, expecting a storm with every channel change, but he never said a word. I don't know, maybe he was holding onto it for the right moment."

Even Jaina, Zekk thought, didn't believe that. Her knuckles were turning white again, though, and her expression was too controlled for it not to be edging toward misery. It was enough for now; he'd figure out the rest later. "The two of you didn't react to each other the way I expected," he said instead.

Jaina's lips twitched. "Were you expecting holo-net declarations of thwarted love? Believe me, hurting a girl's loved ones is a lot less romantic in real life."

"I think it was more complicated on Traest's side than you like to believe," Zekk said, because apparently he couldn't help himself.

Jaina snorted in disgust. "Yes, he loved me _so much_, it was all just a bizarre way of getting my attention. Like, he was trying to prove himself to me." She rolled her eyes. "That isn't love, that's a load of lies and brainwashing."

"I could have been him," Zekk said without thinking. He looked away from her; he hadn't meant to remind her, if she had forgotten.

Jaina, however, gave his hand a sharp yank. "You are— Zekk, look at me. You are _nothing_ like Traest. It's not some theory, you turned Brakiss down."

"Because I thought he was crazy. If I'd known—" He caught her non-flinch, and amended his phrasing. "If I'd had any reason to believe him, I might have taken the chance. I could have met you in the middle of a duel."

Jaina shook her head, stubborn. "Traest wanted the work, excitement. You're—"

"There are a thousand reasons to take the wrong path."

Jaina swallowed her retort, and instead told him, "It doesn't matter. You didn't give into Brakiss. There's enough trouble in this galaxy without turning to 'what ifs.' You'll make yourself crazy doing that."

Zekk rummaged for a smile, and wondered if she would take her own advice. Well, he decided, he'd known even before the more-than-friends part that Jaina would be a marathon, and one with plenty of ways to end terribly—if they let it, which Zekk was determined not to do.

Jaina cleared her throat. She sat straighter and crossed her legs at the ankle. "Alright, now that's out of the way. Any idea where you guys are headed next?"

Zekk shrugged. "Back toward the Core. We rarely come this far out. I think Raven said something about Corellia."

Jaina grinned. "Corellia's always good for smugglers. 'Course, they just call it trade, there."

Zekk gave her a reprimanding look. "Raven would want me to assure you that it's all very legal transportation. Legal in every district. Upstanding, even."

"Of course," Jaina agreed, still grinning. "Trade, just as I said."

"What about you? Are you going back to Coruscant for the trials soon?"

"To Coruscant, probably, once we finish up here, but it'll probably be months before the trials start. I'll be on- and off-planet a hundred times before all the sentences have been handed out. I just try not to get in the prosecuting lawyers' way."

"When you need me—as a witness—just let me know."

"The lawyers will serve notice," she said.

"But let me know once you find out," Zekk insisted, feeling another pang of dissatisfaction. "You have my comm number now, I have yours."

"Right. But the lawyers might still be quicker. I'll be all over the place, even when the trial is ongoing." Jaina's expression had lightened a little, but hadn't lose its insistence that _you fix it this time_, which just made him more frustrated. What else was he supposed to do? Time, he consoled himself. Jaina had never been the easy choice, and he couldn't expect to mend everything in a single conversation.

"Busy saving the galaxy?" he suggested fondly.

"That, and keeping Kyp out of trouble. The second one's a full-time job."

They shared a mischievous look that was almost right. "Right, the first part you'll just have to do in your sleep," Zekk said.

"I've been doing it since birth," Jaina agreed. She paused and pinned him with what he had come to recognize as her Jedi look. "If you ever want to train, or even just find out more…the Jedi praxeum will always be open to you. And there are alternatives; you don't have to study full-time, if it doesn't work for you. Not everyone goes on to be knighted and work for the New Republic." She held his gaze steady, perhaps seeing his lingering doubt. "At any time, no matter what happens between us."

"You could never take the training and then work elsewhere," he said. "Not even for flying. You'd think it was a waste."

She looked uncomfortable. "When I was younger, I thought so. And—_I_ couldn't, wouldn't, no. It's a good life, worth something. After Traest, especially—I was just so selfish, I was sick of myself by the end of it, and so many people in the galaxy need help; I could never leave them."

She visibly switched gears then, tucking some loose hair behind her ears. "But it isn't for everyone, even those who are Force sensitive. It can be very dangerous. And it isn't the only way to help, let alone lead a good life."

With everything he had seen on Jaina's mission, and despite the times he'd witnessed Jaina struggle, training as a Jedi felt as inevitable as his next breath—or as continuing on with Jaina. He had seen too much now, the risks and reasons, the costs and the hope that things could be different, the idea that he could play a role in the change. "Not yet," he told her, but it sounded to Zekk like _someday_, and maybe even _someday soon_.

Jaina smiled widely, genuinely. "My uncle already knows about you. You only ever have to talk to him."

"I doubt I'll ever make an appointment with Luke Skywalker, Saviour of the Galaxy, to chat about training options," Zekk remarked, raising an eyebrow.

Jaina rolled her eyes. "You threw snowballs at Jaina Solo, who's no slouch in galaxy-saving either, thank-you-very-much; I think you can manage Jedi business with the leading Jedi Master."

"I thought I'd just bring along my Jedi friend to show me around," Zekk said, smiling at her.

"Yeah, I could do that." Jaina stood suddenly, making Zekk draw back. "Well, I still have mountains of paperwork to do," she said, walking toward the staircase.

Zekk twisted in his chair, then stood to see her properly. She was looking stubborn again, even a little defiant. "Okay," he said, sensing that he had not, in fact, fixed nearly as much as he had hoped. "We're leaving tomorrow. Will you—"

"I'll stop by," she said, still backing toward the stairs. "What time are you leaving?"

"Noon, I think. That's when Raven's contract ends for the landing bay."

"I'll come. I should be able to arrange a quick break from paperwork. The others will probably go out tomorrow night anyway."

"Jaina—" He stopped.

She paused on the third stair. "Yeah?"

He stared at her. Something was off, but he couldn't pin it—she was looking at him as she had a hundred times before, not even really _you fix this_ anymore. "Never mind," he finally said.

She smiled and left. Zekk would just have to figure it out on his own.

_**x-x-x**_

Peckhum, for his part, gave Zekk a look of profound disappointment. "If you can't figure it out on your own, Zekk, there ain't nobody who can help you."

_**x-x-x**_


	13. Chapter 13

**Adri**: Thanks for commenting! I'm glad you're enjoying it :D

_**x-x-x**_

Zekk was acutely aware of the two female stares that followed him as he tried not to pace in front of the _Hawk_. He glanced up at the suns, but they were as glaringly bright as they would be at noon. Quarter to noon, he reminded himself; he'd checked his chrono hardly thirty seconds ago. Jaina still had time to come. He was beginning to suspect foul play on the part of a certain dark-haired Jedi Master, but it wasn't as if he'd figured out what to say yet.

"For someone who's waiting for his girlfriend, you look like crap," Scooti told him. He turned to scowl at her, and reassured himself that the mechanic—very hungover, if not still drunk—looked far worse than he did.

Next to Scooti, Raven smirked. "Did you sleep at all last night?"

Zekk split his glare between the two of them. Rather than let him watch his chrono in peace, Raven and Scooti had been up surprisingly early to keep watch on the _Hawk_'s entrance hatch. Zekk hadn't had peace for hours; small wonder he looked harangued. "You can both shut up now. And yes, I did. After finishing all those diagnostics you claimed couldn't wait, not to mention a grocery run since someone cleared out the kitchen."

Scooti pushed her dark glasses further up on her nose, and managed an evil smile. "Hrul deserved all the food I threw at him."

"Why don't you go in and prep the ship for takeoff," Zekk suggested.

"And miss out on our co-pilot's rendez-vous with the Galactic First Daughter?" Raven said, amused. "Zekk, I really think not."

"You're the one who'll be paying the fine," Zekk retorted, half-hoping now that Jaina wouldn't make it after all. The situation was confusing enough without even more know-it-all observers.

Despite his frustration, Jana did push through the spaceport bustle, and found the _Hawk_ ten minutes before takeoff. "Sorry!" she said when ten feet away. "It was one thing after another, with the defence lawyers showing up, and Brakiss leaving messages—"

"I have to go in ten minutes," Zekk told her.

"Six minutes," Raven corrected from the entrance. "I'm not getting docked late fees, and you _are_ my co-pilot."

Jaina glanced at her chrono and looked argumentative, perhaps about how long it took to prepare a ship for takeoff. In a display of mercy, she chose to remain quiet on the matter. "Right, well—"

"I'll go start the engines," Raven said.

Jaina raised an eyebrow.

"Sure, thanks," Zekk said quickly, staving off a talk about proper ship maintenance. "Scooti?"

The young mechanic grinned. "I'm staying right here."

Zekk scowled, but decided to ignore his audience, and turned back to Jaina. "Well." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'll call you. Or you can call me."

"I can keep you updated on my swift descent into paperwork madness," Jaina said. She was grinning, but she didn't fly full time, and he knew she would never think of leaving the Jedi.

He smiled back at her. "Your propaganda could use some work."

"I'll send you some of the recruitment and early training films. You can brew tea and practice your breathing. I'll even mail you a few rocks for practice."

"Mystical Force rocks?" he wondered sceptically.

Her grin broadened. "Very mystical and ordinary, heavy rocks. If you train, I can teach you of the mystical ways they do nothing. Very secret."

"Hey, all I know about the Jedi comes from holo-films and hints from you. And you hardly ever talk about your powers."

"I grew up with them." She glanced up as the _Hawk_'s engines began to _whirr_. "When are you next on Coruscant?" she asked, raising her voice slightly.

He shrugged. "Soon, probably. Most of our shipments take us through there, even if Raven doesn't let us know ahead of time."

"I suppose you don't know how long you'll be off finding yourself, either," she said, half cheerfully. Zekk looked up at her sharply. "Well," she shrugged, looking very not-casual, "good luck with everything."

"I'm coming back."

"You better," she retorted, grinning to let him know that she wasn't upset. "But in the meantime—" She paused, and her smile changed at the edges. "I hope you find everything you're looking for out there."

Oh. _Oh_. He had the mad urge to laugh out loud, but he doubted that Jaina would take well to hysterical laughter. Especially when she was using all the patience she'd never really had.

"Jaina," he said carefully, and had to stifle another laugh.

She waited a moment, then glanced up at the _Hawk_'s helm; the engines were getting louder. "What?" she asked, raising her voice even more to be heard.

"I'm coming—"

She frowned and came closer. "What?"

He spoke louder and leaned in. "I said—" The engines gave a loud boom, and Scooti scrambled up the ramp and into the ship. This time, Zekk did laugh, and Jaina grinned back at him in confusion. He felt slightly mad and invincible, perhaps like Jaina did right before she pulled a stunt that she knew only a few people (herself included) could pull off. If there was a prize for miscommunication and bad timing, Zekk wouldn't have been surprised if they won it, but, maybe—the realities of befriending a celebrity Jedi Knight, saving the galaxy, and an evil ex-fiancé aside—

"Jaina," he said, "there is no way I'm letting you go."

—but maybe Peckhum and his holo-vids had managed to get _this_ much right: as terrible as they were with words, Zekk and Jaina weren't going to uncross any wires without a bold move or two. Not stopping for a deep breath, Zekk leaned down and kissed Jaina until she pulled him closer, and then until he had to leave. At the very least, the pull of her fingers at his jacket and the bump of their noses left "just friends" far behind.

When he finally pulled away and ran up the _Hawk_'s ramp, they were both grinning.

Game on.

_**x**_

_**x-x-x**_

_**x  
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Let me know what you think :D

Also, for those of you who are interested, I'll be posting a short prequel story, covering the Jaina/Traest debacle. It'll be titled _The Reason Why_, and should be up within a week or less. Thanks so much to everyone who has read and reviewed!

-Tjz


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